Relesen
by Quickbeam1
Summary: A tragic accident threatens to tear the bonds of friendship apart as one friend fights for his life while the other seeks release from his torment and despair.
1. Relesen

Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters. 

  
  


Author's note: WIP. This story is most likely AU though it is set during the time before the War of the Ring and Tolkien's trilogy. From the title, Relesen, the Middle English word for release, I have chosen to use creative license with the subject matter presented and a few other details from the trilogy. Neither in the books nor from the movies have I ever come across mention or witnessed anything other than complete accurate intent springing forth from Legolas's bow. I have chosen to explore otherwise, hence this story, which has been done before in many differing mediums. The story, Relesen (Release) explores the varying implications of that one word- to set free from restraint, confinement, or servitude, to relieve from something that confines, burdens, or oppresses and relief or deliverance from sorrow, suffering, or trouble. It is my hope that you will enjoy what follows. :)

  
  


RELESEN- Chapter One

  
  


His fingers drew tautly upon the bowstring once again as he positioned yet another arrow upon his bow in preparation for a quick release as another foul creature moved within his sights. During the past few minutes, he had fired off a rapid succession of similar projectiles into the relentless crowd of orcs, who had gained vantage over their makeshift camp mere minutes before, and though he had killed many, their numbers seemed not to dwindle. His eyes searched the mayhem surrounding him seeking to ascertain the condition of his fellow companion. 

  
  


What his eyes came in contact with made his blood run cold. The enemy had Aragorn flushed against a closely grown stance of trees and scrub, the thorns of the latter impeding his mobility as they grasped like claws to inhibit the swing of his broad sword. Many of the enemy lay slain at his feet, but more were quickly closing in upon him to take their place. The duration of their fighting thus far had not proven extensive, but the intensity of it was fast becoming exhausting, and Legolas noted the increasing strain that shown upon the young Dunedan's countenance. Quickly he released another arrow advantageously taking down not one, but two of their foe as the missile swiftly passed through the first before embedding itself within the second. Reaching back once more to his quiver to claim another, he was unsettled to find the number of his supply was rapidly diminishing. If there proved not to be a break in their fighting soon or some unseen release from their burden, he was certain that the two of them would not be able to wrest themselves from this situation surrounding them unscathed.

  
  


Rapidly he released another and another of his projectiles into the throng about him, each attaining its goal, but starkly making a dent in the tumultuous circumstance that enveloped them. He had little time to react and even less to reason as he fought with all he had in him. He positioned yet another arrow upon his bowstring as a cry of anguish broke through the melee surrounding them, and though his eyes darted quickly in the direction of its sound in his heart he knew that the voice filled with pain was none other than that of his friend. Frantically as his eyes came in contact with the one he sought out, he witnessed a rapidly growing crimson stain spreading across the left flank of Aragorn's tunic beneath his overcoat. His friend had sustained a glancing blow from an orc scimitar. Fear coursed through the elf as he watched his friend first stumble then lose balance as the legs beneath him gave way and he sunk down upon the ground below only to be immediately overtaken by the swarm of orcs surrounding him. 

A cry of fury rose in Legolas's throat echoing throughout the forest that encompassed them, and using the brief respite he had gained from the offenders encircling him, he reacted boldly with a hail of arrows into the crowd around his companion. Perhaps it was the emotion of the moment that prompted the rashness of his action, he would never know , but the outcome it wrought would forever hence live to haunt him. The many arrows he let loose into the mobbing marauders found their mark felling the foul creatures with great intensity, but as the last of its kind let loose from his bow cutting a whistling path through the heavy air around it, Legolas was horrified to see Aragorn once again trying to regain his footing. His friend rose and wrested himself free of the arms of his closest attacker in a sudden burst of energy, his hasty action couldn't have proven more precipitous or costly as the projectile that had been released to aid him now made contact with the flesh of Men instead of the hide of orcs, penetrating tissue and sinew before coming to a final halt against bone.

  
  


A strangled, "Noooooo!" ripped through Legolas as he watched in horror as the last of the arrows he let loose impacted with friend instead of foe, throwing the young Human backwards but not before the Sylvan elf caught the look of startled realization that reach his friend's eyes.

  
  


Another choked "Noooo!" resounded through the air around the fighting as a quick rush of blood pumped through the veins of the immortal archer and the burning of tears hastened to blur his vision. He could not allow emotion to rule the moment, not while his friend's welfare remained in such a precarious state. He would not allow his friend to suffer anymore at the hands of these foul beast, not while he still drew breath and throwing his now useless bow down upon the ground beside him, he swiftly withdrew his Elven daggers, and leaving caution behind, he began an all out assault forward with only one goal in mind that of saving Aragorn or to die trying.

  
  


In a blaze of relentless fury he struck out against their assailants taking down one after the other, the sharpened blades in his hands severing and slashing through the primitive orc flesh. He felt nothing as he carried out this offensive, if orc weaponry either pierced him or scored a blow, he knew not as he moved onward his arms flowing in unfailing motion brandishing the now bloodied blades as his hands ceaselessly continued moving forward to plunge, stab, and kill. Many moments later he stood dazed heaving in breath as he took in the carnage surrounding him. Orc bodies littered the ground below, their black blood flowing in rivulets to form gathering pools beneath them. Panting hard he allowed the previous motility of his limbs to still, doubling over in his effort, as his hair and clothes now hung in the state of great disarray, fouled by the same black blood that was soaking the landscape below him. Not an orc was left standing, though a few still drew breath if only for a brief moment as the final death gurgles of many seemed to rattle through the air around him. Several had cowardly abandoned their companions to the avenging onslaught of this elf and had made their escape into the tree cloaked surroundings. He had almost fled after them in pursuit until his mind gained precedence once again. Wiping a shaky hand across his brow, he was dazed momentarily as he drew it back before him to find it covered with blood, not the precious life giving liquid that flowed through the veins of his high elven brethren , but the loathsome inky fluid that somehow circulated through the cold, hard vessels of the beasts now laying either dead or dying before him. It streaked his face much in the same way as the tales told of the Wild Men, who roamed near the feet of the White Mountains, used nature's gifts to adorn their features. He suddenly felt the bile rise within the back of his throat as the reality of the moment finally struck him and the stench of foul blood from the corpses below him rose up to meet him. Swallowing hard, he shook his head to clear his thoughts, his own blood still pumping hard within his veins. Finally an articulate cry escaped from his lips as he realized his final goal had been achieved and allowing his daggers to fall to the ground below him, he frantically began to make search for his friend among the littered dead.

  
  


It did not take him long to discern Aragorn's wounded body among those of their now deceased aggressors. His brown overcoat and moss green tunic stood out among the coarse garments of the slain, but it was the yellow fletchings, waving like a banner upon a battlefield, that protruded from the shaft buried deep within the human's right shoulder that heralded Legolas forward. Sinking to his knees beside his friend, he gently cupped the man's face within his hands, tears springing afresh within the depths of his troubled blue eyes. Aragorn's face was slack, his coloring now chalky, and his eyes now tightly shut to all that was around him. Moving a shaky hand from Aragorn's face to the crook of his neck he felt for a pulse unable to contain the trembling in his fingers, their obvious tension interfering in his struggle to ascertain whether the beat of life still coursed through his friend's body. The impatience of anxiety gaining the better of him, he let his hand stray even further towards the injured laden torso of the young Dunedan until his hand rested just above Aragorn's heart. A cry of relief escaped his lips as he acknowledged that indeed the Human's heart still beat within his breast, and that his friend's body still sought the breath of life from this world.

  
  


Immediately he took in the graveness of Aragorn's injuries. The violence wrought from the orc scimitar had left a deep and gagged cut from breast bone till it met the resistance of rib down the side of the Man's left flank. It still bled freely, saturating the torn garments surrounding the wound, but it was the arrow, his arrow, that protruded from the Human's right shoulder that tormented him most. Its downward angle of entry and the depth of the shaft engulfed within the Human's flesh could only mean that his friend had sustained extensive and perhaps irreparable internal damage, all at his own hand. A sob tore through the elf as he reached forward to clasp the shaft wanting the tear it from his friend's body in a desperate attempt to assuage the wrong he had committed, but keen insight won out over his worn state. While the arrow remained within his body, its presence acted to staunch any further loss of blood Aragorn might experience from its removal. He needed to tend to the gash first before he could put his young friend in any further peril that blood loss from removing it might cause him though his mind screamed within him reminding him how he wanted nothing more than to remove any reminder of his part in the Aragorn's grave condition. 

  
  


The dimness of "aduial" was quickly serving to cloak the landscape in darkness, and the air about them grew chill as Legolas unclasped his cloak before searching the ground for his discarded daggers. Finding one, he used the garment to wipe the foul blood from its blade before realizing that a fair percentage of his outer mantle was also covered in the same black dampness. Desperately he sought to find a still unsullied length to tear into bandages and wrap Aragorn's wounds. Accomplishing this task, he went about as gently as he could in their remote location to cleanse the wound before lifting his friend and wrapping it. When he was satisfied that the wound was bound sufficiently, his focus rested again upon the damage of his doing, praying that the trajectory of his arrow had not dealt Aragorn a deadly blow. Moving his hands back around the shaft, his intention was to remove the lethal violation from his friend's flesh as swiftly and as painlessly as possible, but as his hands moved to grasp the shaft more firmly they brushed against the fletchings and the ramifications of his earlier actions cut at his heart once more and acted toward taunting him that he should be the cause of his friend's present circumstance. Emotion overwhelmed him and he could no longer hold it at bay only serving to increase the self-recrimination he now felt. Blinking back the tears that formed once again he violently railed against himself. "This is not doing him any good! You must help him instead of thinking of yourself! It's your fault that he lies so near death! This your fault... your doing!" 

  
  


Brushing away the sentiment that he perceived as weakness, his hands once again clasped the shaft firmly, but he did not further his action until he looked down into the vulnerable face of his injured friend. "Forgive me, Estel." He whispered and with a quick outward tug, he sought to remove the offending projectile once and for all. His efforts were for naught for as he worked toward aiding his friend, the extrication of the arrow from flesh did not proceed smoothly. The young Human was startled by the elf's actions and struggled beneath him bucking in defense against the pain Legolas caused within him, upsetting the elf's precious attempt to remain focused and balanced. But it was the burst of adrenaline that coursed through the Human, a constant companion to Man's inborn nature of fight or flight, that knocked the elf off balance, inhibiting his efforts at aid, and snapping the shaft in two, mere inches above the ranger's flesh as the length of it still remained engulfed within Aragorn's prone body.

  
  


"No, Aragorn!" came Legolas startled cry of distress as he realized what the actions of the Man had precipitated. The ranger's inarticulate cry of pain in response had the elf immediately back upon his feet and at his side. "Estel?" He breathed in fear while his hand traveled forward to soothe and brush the hair away from Aragorn's now damp brow before moving down to cup his face in comfort, watching as Aragorn's eyes fluttered open and shut as he tried to focus on the world swirling above him. It took mere moments but finally the confusion that previously masked reality faded and the world that spun around him came into focus. "Legolas?" He croaked, his voice weakened from pain, thirst, and exhaustion. "What happened?"

  
  


Legolas was startled by his question and he opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came forth. How could he tell Estel, his closest friend, that he now lay in great peril due to a wound he sustained at his own hands? He tried to think of a way to soothe his friend in explanation, but with his hesitation he found the cloak of confusion had resettled upon him as Aragorn's eyelids began to flutter once more with increased rapidity before his eye's rolled back and his head lolled toward the side.

  
  


"ESTEL?" Legolas cried out in fear, unsure if the soul that inhabited Aragorn's body had chanced to flee. "Estel?" He called out again in anguish as his hands caressed the brow of his companion before him. "Do not leave me nin mellon! Do not leave me! I'm sorry, so sorry!" He trembled. " Please do not leave me Estel!" The elf implored finally allowing his emotion to rule and he gathered the Man within his arms bringing him to rest against him while sobbing mournfully, his tears falling to wet the brow, face and hair of his friend. "I'm sorry...so sorry...Please do not die on me, my friend....."

  
  


As if the Valar had heard his petition and was granting appeal, Aragorn stirred within his arms though he did not regain consciousness. Staring back down at the friend, the elf swallowed gratefully before looking toward the heavens with supplication momentarily then cradled the Man even closer to him as a ragged whisper filled Aragorn's ear. "Yes, Estel, yes! Do not forsake the light, my friend! Stay with me! I will get you through this, I promise! If I have to use all that I have within me to draw you back toward the light, I will! I will see you through this nin mellon! You will live, Estel! You will live! I swear this on my life!" 

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.

  
  


Author's Note- Thank you to all my wonderful reviewers! Your kind words were greatly appreciated.----Please excuse any discrepancies that follow within my story with consideration to Tolkien's works. I've done my best to research both the information I've collected and the spellings I've used before including them in my writing , but my time and resources are limited, and sometimes a little knowledge can prove to be a dangerous thing! I hope you will enjoy this next chapter. :)

  
  


Relesen-Chapter 2

  
  
  
  


Legolas stared down at the injured man before him, closely observing the Human as he shivered in response to the chill night air, and spoke out. "Be still Estel, and rest. Soon we will have such a blaze before us that it will rival any born within the hearth at the Great Hall of Imaldris. You will be warm again, nin mellon." He finished tying to sound upbeat, although their situation was bleak, and the one before him still remained incognizant to any of his words. 

  
  


Earlier he had finished tending to Aragorn's injuries. He packed cloth from a spare tunic he had found in the Man's traveling bundle carefully around the wound that surrounded the broken shaft, and used the rest of the rent fabric to bandage, then bind his right arm successfully to his chest to immobilize it, hence preventing his friend from causing himself any further harm. After that, he had drug Aragorn as gently as possible away from the thwarted dissension that lay around them before leaving him once more to gather what little wood he could find from their immediate surroundings for the use of starting up a fire. His first reluctant forage from his friend's side had been to hastily collect his discarded weapons and whatever salvageable arrows he could recover to refill his empty quiver incase they were besieged upon again by these relentless orc hunters. Picking his way through the sullied landscape, he recognized that Aragorn needed warmth forthwith , and though it proved loathsome to the elf, he also gathered some of the goblins' discarded hardwood truncheons along with whatever twigs and branches he could muster to add to his pile in an effort to expedite his undertaking. 

  
  


Turning his attentions back toward the fire, he used one of the longer limbs he had acquired to stoke the now kindling flames before turning to his friend once more. Heat radiated outward from the assembled conflagration, but the Man beside him still trembled and the elf moved closer to draw the remnants of his cloak, now serving as a blanket, more closely about him. Aragorn's pale coloring along with the fact that he hadn't regained consciousness except for that brief interval earlier, born from pain of his unsuccessful attempt at removing of the arrow, worried the Sylvan elf. He had wrestled over in his mind this weighty decision of whether to remove the arrow completely here and now, or to leave the fragment in place while he sought further assistance for his friend. It was grievous to him to let matters stand as they were, but he could not help acknowledging that Aragorn's injury might prove beyond his skill as a healer, and so he chose to do the latter. Now watching over his friend's shivering form, he wondered worriedly if perhaps he had made the wrong choice. 

  
  


"No!" He railed at himself. "Though our path appears ambiguous at present, how would you react if you chose the other course and it triggered his own life's blood to flow from out of him initiating his spirit toward a rapid departure?"

  
  


Reaching out with an unsteady hand, he brushed it against the young ranger's dampened brow in an attempt to ease the Man's and his own current discomfort. His friend laying before him had long passed the age of maturity in Human years, and would be drawing upon three years past a score at his upcoming birthday, but the vulnerableness that Aragorn's now prone body betrayed spurred Legolas on in his role as protector as he continued to shelter the Man. How contrarious this defenseless image that Aragorn now presented was from that of the young boy and then the man he had come to know throughout the years of their acquaintance, and he spoke out words of comfort to rally the spirit that lay within the still slumbering Dunadan.

  
  


"This will not do, Estel. You must fight, my friend. Fight with all that you have within you. This perhaps might prove to be our most arduous battle yet. You must fight hard, nin mellon. If not for yourself, then for me and your family. What would we do without you?" He finished with an attempt at a mirthful laugh only to find it cut short by a choked sob as he repeated once again. "What would we do without you?" He proceeded on, trying to introduce a teasing tone to his voice. "You have been the bane of our existence since your arrival at Imaldris, my friend. Who will keep us on our toes and forever embroiled in trouble if you should decide to flee?" He inquired gruffly although he tried to mask this with a feigned lightness as he reached forward to ruffle his friend's disheveled hair. "This will not do, my friend. Your brothers will certainly be displeased, and your father...." He could carry on the conversation no longer as his grief stricken voice broke completely while the hand at his side balled up into a fist of frustration, and he repeated his earlier words. "This will not do..." Though unspoken, his thoughts went on. 'You are not a quitter, my friend...even from the earliest days...such defiance you displayed.' the elf beside him recalled. ' A force to be reckoned with you were, young one...' Legolas continued as he finally managed to smile wryly in earnest, though his heart was still wrought with the pain of the moment . The elf allowed himself the comfort of letting his thoughts set adrift as they traveled back in time to remember their very first meeting. 

  
  


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Legolas made a final attempt to brush back a few still dampened locks of hair as he glanced into the looking glass beside the mahogany wardrobe in his guest quarters at Rivendell. The trek across Hithaeglir had proven long and tedious as the complement of advisors he had accompanied from Mirkwood made their way along the Forest Road and through the High Pass until they reached the outskirts of elven realm. Not once, but three times their group had been assaulted by the savage goblins who lurked and preyed upon those who chose to travel such a route. Being forever on one's guard proved quite burdensome even for a party of First Born, and Legolas was grateful for this long deserved respite from his previous demanding task. The luxury of a good meal and a long, hot soak did wonders to one's spirit and disposition even if one had not obtained proper rest for over a fortnight. But sleep could wait for later, he was much too excited to slumber now. Being once again within the walls of Rivendell, his first ambition was to seek out his life long friends, the sons of Lord Elrond. 

  
  


Adjusting the last of his two braids to his satisfaction, he made one more cursory check of his appearance in the reflecting glass before departing from his suite in search of his long sought after friends. He made his way through the many passage ways of the stone hall, and marveled that the family's living quarters were unusually quiet for this hour of the day. Most visitors would not have been so bold as to roam freely throughout the private apartments of their host's household, but the Lord of Rivendell, and his twin sons, Elladan and Elrohir, were never ones to stand on formal pretense, accepting the prince of Mirkwood as one of their own. So as Legolas hummed a happy tune to himself, he entered the drawing room and found it empty. Thinking nothing of it, he flopped down upon the nearest overstuffed chair while reaching forward to drag a book from the low companion table beside it, then allowed his feet to take weight on its prior resting place. "The Histories of Minhiriath...." His voice trailed off as he thumbed through the thickly embossed pages, while acknowledging to himself wryly that the subject matter at hand was a little too droll for his taste before abandoning the book and allowing it to drop quietly to his side as he awaited for his two friends to appear. 

  
  


A rustle from behind the draperies leading out to an enclosed balcony drew him back from his brief reverie and captured his complete attention as he called out. "Elladan? Elrohir? Is that you?"

  
  


No answer came forthwith leading Legolas to wonder if indeed his long journey and the winds whispering through the trees were playing tricks upon him. But when the curtains swayed again in exaggerated response, he knew for certain that no swirl of breeze would cause such a unseemly commotion. The welcoming clear, blue skies, without a hint of breath let alone a squall, that peeked through a span in the fabric, confirmed this to him, and he rose to investigate calling out expectantly. "Who's there?" Still no response came forthwith which spurred on the flame of intrigue that ignited deep within the fair elf's breast, burning all the more brighter as he reached his destination and immediately drew back upon the concealing ornate fabric. What his efforts revealed took the Sylvan elf by surprise, because there before him stood the form of a Human, and not that of a grown adan, but one in the likeness of child no more than a quarter of a score in age. 

  
  


The pair of wary gray eyes that stared back at him proceeded to keep him off guard as Legolas muttered the first intelligable thought that came to mind. "Who are you?"

  
  


The serious little face, whose eyes guardedly glared back at him, turned up in an attempt at defiance as the child reacted to the elf's initial impertinent words "Who are you?" The young child countered while trying to maintain the spark of boldness that replaced the previous wariness imbuing his now rounded eyes. 

  
  


The tartness that accompanied the child's response only further proved to distract the now bewildered elf as he grappled to cover for his loss of words and replied if not somewhat more annoyed than he had wished. "Ah! You are not only an interloper, who could rival any heavy footed orc in his lack of covert intentions, but you are an insolent one as well. I can tell you this, Lord Elrond does not appreciate unwanted guests trespassing in his private quarters. "

  
  


The child's brow now knitted with confusion as he considered the fair haired elf's words. " I am not an insoloper or heavy footed..." He returned unable to keep the hint of hurt from his voice before he continued, "... and I'm definitely not unwanted! This is my home!" He shouted while finishing with. "At least I possess enough manners to know better than to allow myself to get caught with my feet up upon Lord Elrond's good furniture!"

  
  


The tall archer cocked an amused brow at the young child's wry response as he went about considering what evident truths the small boy's words might hold. Legolas had recollected hearing at times how Lord Elrond did in fact take in orphaned edain children into his home; those children, whose families had succumbed to either illness or to raids upon their homes and villages. But according to the knowledge he had gathered thus far, and to the correspondences he kept with his two close friends, none of these children ever remained in the realm of Imaldris for any length of time since the elves did their best to place such children within the homes of their own kind. Perhaps this young boy in front of him was one such child, and suddenly Legolas' heart brimmed with empathy for the plight of one so small. 

  
  


The child however used the elf's moment of contemplation to try and make a break from the room, and immediately took off to the left greatly underestimating the elf's quick reflexes. Legolas reached forward grasping the thin arm of the boy within his large palm, curling his fingers gently, but firmly about it to stop the boy's forward progression. His actual intent was to sort out the matter before him and help redirect the child toward his proper guest quarters, but mistaking the elf's actions for those of an aggressor, the young child reacted directly, almost as timely as the elf had himself, and he drew a slippered clad foot forward making hard contact with the shin of his oppressor, and taking the elf by surprise once more, thereby succeeding in his attempt to wriggle free from the tall being. 

  
  


A quick gasp of pain escaped from the elf only to be cut short by an unutterable oath that the young boy knew his foster father would surely disapprove of. The fair immortal then took off after the small child, cornering him near the doorway as he eyed him warily. "Why you...." The angered First Born began though he consequently succeeded in checking his deep displeasure with the child, finding it oddly replaced by feelings of admiration for the youth's brazen resilience and capabilities.

  
  


The boy glared back at him breathing hard from his exertions, his breath coming in short, accelerated gasps. His eyes were huge, resembling those of a trapped animal within a hunter's sight, and his blood coursed rapidly through his small veins while his heart beat a heavy tatoo within the walls of his chest. He did not draw back , however, from the seeming predatoriness of the creature, who loomed above him, and the boy demanded once again. "Who are you? And, what are you doing in 'my' home?"

  
  


Legolas had no time to answer these onerous accusations put forth by the child as the sound of another voice broke on to the scene. 

  
  


"Estel? Estel?" A harried voice called out. "Where are you?" It was followed immediately by a resigned exclamation. "Now where did that young rascal get off to this time? He certainly is a handful! I'd rather face all the orcs of Hithaeglir or the depths of Moria than to be held accountable for yet another of my liege's offspring! Looking after the likes of them was not in the bargain when Iluvator agreed to give us, Eldars, the immortal gift of life! And this newest one, well he's sure to be the death of me if only the Valar would be so merciful!"

  
  


Legolas watched as the child's previous trepidation faded as the approaching voice drew nearer, until at last the young boy called out. "Cerindur! Cerindur! I'm in here!"

  
  


The impatient figure of a raven haired elf, to whom the inquiring voice belonged, rushed by Legolas into the drawing room. His obvious relief at finding his small charge was clearly evident upon his face as he stepped closer to gently scold the young boy in the now vacant spot that Legolas gave way too. The Sylvan elf could not help but wonder as he watched the conversation taking place between these two if it were indeed possible for one of his First Born brethren to get gray hair. The eldar before him sighed in exasperation as he finished his brief chastisement of the young boy, and began muttering resignedly, "It was very naughty of you, young Estel, to disappear on me like that, and right before bath time! I will surely take this matter up with your father when he is free!"

  
  


Legolas tried hard to contain the mirth he now felt as he watched the situation unfold before him, and he bit down upon his lower lip to keep from laughing outright as he noted the look of displeasure that crossed the young child's face at the older being's mention of the word 'bath'. A small feeling of vindication arose within him that somehow, now, this small whelp would pay for his earlier disagreeableness. 

  
  


Finally, the dark haired immortal with the boy noted Legolas' attendence in the room, and he hastily added. "Well excuse me..." until the light of recognition lit upon his face. "Why, Prince Legolas! My word!" The older elf exclaimed as he extended his hand outward in greeting before he continued on . "Welcome, welcome my boy! I did not realize that you were included among those with the Mirkwood contingent. "

  
  


"Cerindur" the Sylvan elf replied warmly taking the hand he offered firmly within his own, though his previous confusion came back to haunt him as to why Elladan's and Elrohir's steward would now be overseeing the servitude of this young Human. 

  
  


He wasn't given the chance to dwell upon this fact any further as Cerindur spoke up. "I hope my young charge here hasn't been too great of a nuisance, Prince Legolas. He really is a dear boy, though sometimes that fact can easily become distorted." Cerindur finished while trying to suppress the grin of affection that these words brought forth, and the small boy beside him rushed forward to wrap his arms around the tall being's waist, burying his head into his silky folds of fabric making up the eldar's robes before gathering it and bunching it within his small, seeking hands. 

  
  


Legolas observed the sudden change in the small boy's demeanor, as he became increasingly docile while allowing the other elf to withdraw him from the room, but not before his caretaker wished the Mirkwood elf a pleasant stay. Legolas stood in the doorway as he watched the odd couple make their way down the hallway together, the boy's custodian lecturing his charge once again on the inappropriateness of his conduct. The fair elf smirked for it seemed as if a spark of the small boy's earlier defiance reappeared upon his countenance as he listened to the fair being, though the young Human obediently nodded yes and no at each appropriate interval. Legolas was just beginning to consider the unique elvish name that the child possessed when he caught the sight of his two friends coming across a threshold as they entered into the same corridor as the small boy and his guide. He readied to call out to them in jovial greeting, but instead hesitated and watched as one elf and then the other addressed the Human child with deep affection. 

  
  


"Interesting indeed...." Legolas remarked as his eyes beheld the scene before him. "...this little imp, whom they call 'Hope'."

  
  


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"Hope" he breathed aloud as his remembrance came to an end. "Lord Elrond gave you the Elvish name for Hope, my friend." He replied gently glancing down at the injured man before him, and reaching forward he allowed a comforting hand to stroke Aragorn's brow. He was alarmed as he drew it back to note that it felt warmer than it did mere minutes before. Worry played heavily upon his heart again. He needed to get Aragorn aid once the first light of dawn broke through. His eyes searched to the right finding the inky, dark shadows of the Misty Mountains looming over them in the moonlight and then to the left at the descending darkened valleys of Eriador, and he knew he had but one choice. He must get Aragorn back to Rivendell, and he must do so with haste before time and hope both ran out.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.

  
  


Author's note: Thank you once again to my reviewers! Your kind words really make my day! :) I had a lot of difficulty with this next chapter, frequently stopping to question my intentions. I had intended it to be longer than it turned out to be, but when I reached its conclusion, I felt it best to end there. I hope you enjoy it. :)

  
  
  
  


The darkened hours of the night passed slowly for the elf as he kept a quiet vigil over his injured friend, but Legolas did not misuse the time that had been given to him. During these hours he began to devise the plan he would adopt to bring Aragorn back to Rivendell. He loathed wasting such precious hours with inaction, but taking route now during the covert shadows of the night was not advisable especially if orcs were still lurking in their vicinity. With a wounded man in his company, it would be best to travel by the light of day when such fell creatures would weaken and seek dark refuge against the radiant beams of the sun. 

  
  


Traveling on foot, Legolas and Aragorn had set out from Rivendell three days prior. The Sylvan elf had intended on returning to his homeland in Mirkwood, while Aragorn's plan had to been to accompany his friend thus far before turning south to do some scouting of his own come morning. This night was to be their last together as traveling companions, and though they had spent many hours throughout the previous weeks at Imaldris in each other's company, they had made camp early to share still unspoken stories that had transpired since their last long visit. Laughter and teasing followed while they argued over who should do the cooking or better yet, who would be least likely to burn the meal. Perchance it was the merriment of the moment that had foreboded the devastating events that would soon follow, for in their pursuit of enjoyment, they had allowed their normally astute guard to lapse. Hindsight always proved keener than foresight now that one had many long hours to dwell upon the situation, but no amount of regret would change what had taken place, nor Aragorn's grave condition as a result. 

  
  


Legolas shook his head in lament as he stared back at his friend. A whole slew of what if's would not affect the outcome that had prevailed, but the heaviness of doubt and misgivings still lingered upon him. With each passing hour that ticked by, Aragorn grew weaker Legolas surmised grimly as his friend's condition deteriorated before his eyes. The Man's coloring was waning while his intake of breath became shallower and more labored, but what haunted Legolas the most was the Dunadan's continued lack of consciousness. What if it he were to pass from this life not knowing of the elf's remorse over what had taken place?

  
  


'Stop it! Stop it!' The inner voice inside his head clamored. 'He will not die! You will not allow it! You will get him back to Rivendell, and Lord Elrond will see to his wounds...' "He will recover!" The elf bit out, not realizing that he had spoken these last few words aloud until the roughened timbre of his voice reached his ears.

  
  


Trying to dispel the futile thoughts that flooded his mind, Legolas resolved to turn them toward something more productive as he began to assess what supplies he would need to gather before starting off, then set about placing them within his pack. The tenuous cord that held his patience in check thus far had worn brittle until it finally snapped, and the elf could condone his measure of immobility no longer, not with Aragorn fading before him. Taking what few necessities he could manage along with his bow and quiver, he gathered Aragorn gently into his arms, lifting him upward, then started off on the path toward Rivendell in the early hours that preceded dawn. As he rambled onward, he grasped that he would not be able to bear the brunt of Aragorn's full weight without aid during their long course homeward, admitting to himself that doing such would greatly diminish the likelihood of his returning the Man to his father's home alive. The speed of their undertaking was of the essence, causing the elf to regret his need to meander in such a roundabout way, but first he must deal with the present danger that surrounded them before he could go further onward. Upon finding the comfort of relative safety in which to harbor his friend, he would allow himself the opportunity to seek out the materials he required to build a litter. He would then transport the ranger for the remainder of their journey through both by day and night, while easing the toll such travel would take upon his companion's worn body. 

  
  


They had covered considerable ground before the sun began to break in the eastern skies, lending a small fraction of light to the surrounding thicket, but it provided little warmth to comfort the Man cradled within his arms as Aragorn's body shook with both cold and pain. Moving further onward into the shadowed hinterland, Legolas' keen eyes appraised the landscape around him looking for a safe haven before finally spying a copse of trees and shrubs that would lend a secure location to make temporary camp. The elf wished he had time to build a talan within the higher branches of the timberland, so he could veil his friend's presence from the scrutiny of any encroaching foe, but such an effort would prove too timely and in this case too dangerous in Aragorn's present state, so Legolas chose to lower his friend toward the ground. Without delay he began utilizing the region's indigenous fauna to conceal the ranger's vulnerable form from the sight of any unforseen interloper, who might chance to stray too close to their encampment. While doing thus, the Sylvan elf attempted to make his friend's resting place as comfortable as the landscape around them permitted, scraping together a bed of dry foliage while ignoring the stress their circumstance had placed upon his own fatigued body.

  
  


Lines of worry etched into the flesh around the immortal being's eyes and creased his usually smooth brow as he looked down upon the nearly disguised form of his friend. There had been no improvement in the ranger's condition since their departure only a steady decline during their journey afoot as the constant barrage of jarring and jostling from the rough terrain they crossed over these last few miles had proven costly to the ranger's fragile state. The grip of fever that had taken hold upon Aragorn in the hours preceding grew stronger in its intensity and the young Human's struggle to draw breath increased with it. Shakily the elf drew a hand forward to caress the sole facet of the Man's body still left to be camouflaged, and he cupped his friend's face within his palm as he issued a few quick words of comfort, "Rest nin mellon. I won't be long. The trip ahead of us is a lengthy one, and I must do something before we continue on." 

  
  


Legolas hesitated briefly as he watched his friend's struggle, hoping that the ranger would somehow respond to his spoken words, but this heightened desire was once again to be thwarted as the Human remained oblivious to all that surrounded him. The elf strived to hold onto some semblance of the composure he had gathered over the long, weary miles he had covered with the Man, and he acknowledged to himself that overwrought emotion would only serve to menace them both. As he kept his focus toward the practical, he reached down to his side to withdraw the water skin he carried. Bringing it forth, he opened it and poured a small amount of its liquid into his palm and used it to bathe Aragorn's fever flushed face. Easing his other hand beneath his friend's head and neck, he lifted the Man toward him, away from the gathered bed of tender brush he had assembled, and attempted to part Aragorn's parched lips to drain what little moisture he had left within his cupped hand between them. A small amount of the liquid trickled through causing the ranger to choke and sputter with his body's natural reflex to swallow. This served to increase the tension that grew within the elf beside him, provoking it to gnaw all the more at him. Legolas did not allow this emotion to show through, and he continued to soothe the man with murmured words of comfort as he repeated the same ministration again and again in an attempt to replace the fluids that Aragorn was losing from both fever and blood loss. The elf's efforts, however, seemed in vain as the ranger managed to consume only a small amount of the replenishing fluid that he had bestowed upon him, and the frustration the immortal being felt mounted as he lowered the Man back toward the ground.

  
  


Each new torment proved more taxing for Legolas, both in body and spirit, and with increased difficulty he tried to refocus his thoughts toward the positive while the flames of regret burned vigorously within his breast. Yet pushing such weakness aside, he made to carry on and regained his footing before moving off to his right to draw closer to an adjacent clump of bracken. Crouching down toward the earth, he withdrew his dagger, using the weapon to crop off some of the lush fronds of vegetation that grew there. He continued his cutting until he had gathered a small bundle within his arms then headed back toward his friend. Using the swathes he had gathered, he furthered his concealment of Aragorn's existence beneath the blanket of greenery he had started, faltering only momentarily when he reached the last of the ranger's face before covering it as well, unable to quell the uneasiness that rose within him over of having to leave his prone friend again. He acknowledged to do so was necessary, but this did little to ease the restlessness that washed over him as his eyes swept the landscape. He would need a few strong limbs and many supple vines along with what little twine he carried in the pack upon his back to build the device necessary to carry Aragorn homeward. Hesitating briefly, he looked back toward the leafy blanket that now encompassed the ranger to assure himself of Aragorn's present security and spoke out lightly in reassurance before he departed. "Rest easy, Estel. I will not tarry long, for we make for Rivendell shortly, my friend. You will get better, nin mellon, for we still have many adventures left to share." Then delaying no further, the elf hastened off in search of the materials he needed to acquire. 

  
  


It was during Legolas' brief recess that Aragorn inexorably began to regain awareness of the world surrounding him. It came back to the Man slowly in a swirl of pain and confusion only to be further hampered by the shroud of safety, his friend had covered him with. The man's head moved weakly from side to side, gently stirring the verdure above him, as his eyes began to flutter open taking some time to adjust then focus due to rampant illness of his body and the dimness of the cloud of flora entombing him. His bewilderment was quickly replaced with fear as his heart rate accelerated alarmingly while he attempted to move. He found his efforts stilted as excruciating pain swept through him, and he cried out in distress in response to it, but what emerged from his throat was little more than a weak gasp.

  
  


He managed to push his legs feebly against the ground beneath him, but when he tried the same with his upper torso, his body betrayed him as new agony washed over him afresh, cutting at his breath. Stilling these motions, his fevered brain tried to make sense of his situation. Focusing first on his body, he was unable to ignore the pain that radiated throughout him. Just breathing was a strain as a heavy weight seemed to bear down upon his chest, and he gulped desperately trying to draw more breath into his starving lungs. As his struggle increased, he desperately tried to clear away what he perceived as suffocating, the fauna above him, but found his left arm was barred from movement, and he surrendered the futile effort to that of his right making little leeway with the leafy covering. His mind tried to make sense of what is was that was assailing him as his body quickly began to weaken from the exertions he placed upon it. What little cognizance he still retained began to flee, and his last alert thought was that he must have fallen into some hole or trap as he listlessly tried to maintain his battle to free himself from its confine. His feeble efforts did little more than rustle the leaves surrounding him as what meager strength the man still possessed failed him completely, and he slid back toward unconsciousness. His recent activity, however, proved critical drawing attention as a twig snapped underfoot while the presence of another drew closer. 

  
  


No more than a few furlongs away, Legolas was securing yet another limb for his use, when the sensation of alarm swept through his body, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand upright. His heart began hammering within his chest while his breathing sped up as anxiety flooded his body. His caution, now heightened, alerted him to an unwelcome presence, and without hesitation he raced back toward his friend as his arms and hands instinctively readied for combat, reaching toward bow and quiver.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.

  
  


Author's Note: Thank you to my reviewers! Your kind words are greatly appreciated. This next segment was much easier to write than the previoius one. I hope you enjoy it. :)

  
  
  
  


The intruding presence focused its complete attention toward the shrubbery that covered the Human. Moments earlier the growth had stirred eliciting its interest, but it was the odor of blood that permeated the air around it that spurred the lone creature onward. The predator's back arched as it surveyed what prey might possibly be ahead of him and slunk further forward. The sole wolf was mere feet away from Aragorn's prone body, while he watched and waited with curiosity as the pile of foliage before him rustled once again, and the animal weighed the advisability of whether to act or flee. 

  
  


The virile wolf had been the alpha male of his pack until a few weeks prior when a challenge was brought forth by the beta male of his contingent. The confrontation between the two had been a critical one with the beta claiming victory in the fight. The elder wolf had been a cruel ruler of his pack and was unwelcome to remain with the group once the contest for authority had been decided. It was either be killed or banished, with the creature choosing the latter. He found his ability at hunting alone had been greatly diminished from his previous success as the leader of a large pack. Now an appealing prospect lay ahead of him and his hunger urged him forward. He perceived that whatever it was that lay before him was not the usual ungulate that his kind feasted upon, but working alone he would take advantage of what there was to be offered. The prey had made little recent movement, causing the beast to perceive its victim was either young, old, or ready to die making this venture all the more enticing. Whatever the game, it would most likely prove insubstantial, but offer little resistance, and he could feed on it until brighter prospects made themselves more readily available.

  
  


The coarse haired wolf moved closer to the foliage as his back arched all the more, and he pounced through the air coming down head first with full force upon the pile. His paws were now upon his prey beneath the brush and the animal was surprised to find that his quarry was much larger than he had suspected, but it offered little resistance coaxing the animal onward as it emitted a low growl of frustration using its paws then claws to rifle through the pile of leaves below him. If he was surprised to inevitably find it was a human within his grasp, he did not let on as the injured Man below him offered but a feeble protest of defense, encouraging the predator onward as his claws now came in contact with the man's clothing instead of the swathe of fronds that previously covered him. The animal triumphantly bared his sharp teeth while it emitted a deep snarl of satisfaction making ready for the kill, but his efforts were interrupted by a loud shout that rang out through the air surrounding him momentarily halting the animal's previous fervor as he turned to find out what it was that caused this grievous disturbance. 

  
  


As Legolas rushed onto the scene, he discovered that the surge of awareness that had swept over him moments earlier had not been unfounded, and he continued his charge forward as his voice rose to echo throughout the landscape around him. His outcry had startled the wolf from his prior actions. The sole beast had discovered Aragorn beneath the shroud that covered the ranger, and he had ravaged through it making ready to claim his prey. With both bow and arrow in hand, Legolas readied to stop the animal in its tracks before it could do further harm to his companion. The gray wolf was scant inches away from mauling the Man beneath its haunches, its teeth bared, and readying for the kill, and the elf had but mere seconds to react and put a stop to its intent. The beast turned from the elf to the man and then back to the elf once more trying to calculate its decision of whether to remain with what assuredly would provide it a meal or to address this newest threat that came toward him. 

  
  


It was during this cessation in the animal's activity, that the elf himself was compelled toward making a choice of his own, though only one answer lent itself, for as the archer trained his sight on the predator threatening his friend, he found himself unable to dispatch his arrow from his bow to provide the deathblow to the creature before him. Instead he was shaken to find his hands were trembling, and that his usually disciplined concentration was in a quandary, filled with uncertainty over his ability to offer competent challenge to what had arisen. The wolf's sharp teeth were but mere inches away from Aragorn's throat, and he found himself paralyzed with fear to advance his shot lest his aim should prove errant once more. 

  
  


Time seemed to stand still as he wrestled with this indecision, until finally with a frustrated cry he let the weapon drop from his hands, and instead , rushed heedlessly forward, while drawing his daggers from their sheaths. His charge stirred a reaction from the creature atop of Aragorn, and the animal responded in kind to this new threat being presented to him. Reluctantly letting go of his assured meal, he lunged forward to greet this current menace head on, baring his teeth in a low throaty growl of attack. 

  
  


The injured Man upon the ground had been stirred enough by the animal's assault upon him that he turned his head toward the fury that now arose to his side, and watched through fever glazed eyes as the two combatants converged upon each other, the wolf utilizing both teeth and claws while the elf opposing him swept hard and wide with the weapons within his hands, making contact with fur and flesh as he hewed and slashed. The tumult continued before the ranger until it finally reached a stop upon the ground a short distance away, finding the elf beneath the feral creature. Neither elf nor wolf moved as the minutes ticked by furthering the confusion of the disabled Human. His stifled, "Legolas?" broke into the stillness now surrounding them and brought the elf out of the battle weary stupor he had slipped into. The archer bucked wildly, tossing the dead animal from atop of him as he reacted to this beckoning call. 

  
  


Panting heavily, he hastily tried to make it back upon his feet, but could not find the strength, only managing to crawl forward toward the prostrate form of his friend. Though heaving for breath, relief flooded through him as he made his way toward the Man. "Aragorn!" He answered in choked response. "Aragorn?"

  
  


The ranger stared back bewilderedly at the immortal creature that now slumped over him. His figure startling him in his fever induced delirium, for the Sylvan elf that gazed back at him little resembled the First Born creature that he had come to know so well. Legolas face was smudged with dirt and blood, some from his most recent combat, and other, the black blood of the orcs, from his earlier confrontation. His countenance was scored with scratches and abrasions, and his clothing was not only soiled with the same blood, but it was ripped and torn as well. The ranger tried to focus his fever weary gaze on one particularly nasty gash upon the elf's right forearm that bled freely before moving them back toward his face. Legolas' usually meticulously groomed hair was in great disarray both tangled and knotted and no longer adorned with the two braids he so proudly wore. "Legolas?" The ranger called out again, though his unfocused stare looked past the concerned elf.

  
  


"Aragorn, it is I." Legolas answered with hope, relieved that his friend had finally found his way back from the cloud of unawareness that had previously engulfed him. "Welcome back, nin mellon." He greeted, reaching out to soothe the ranger. 

  
  


The elf could not have more bewildered as the ranger pulled away from the hand moving toward him as he muddled on in confusion with the following words. "Foolhardy...actions..." before finishing frantically as he hissed. "Elladan!"

  
  


The elf was puzzled by Aragorn's behavior, hesitant to extend a hand in comfort again lest he should further irritate the afflicted Human before him, so he used words instead to try and calm his friend. "Hush, nin mellon! All is well! The beast will persecute you no more. He is dead." And with these words, the elf began a precursory check to ascertain if the foul predator had harmed his friend any further. He issued a sigh of relief that Aragorn's injuries seemed none the worse from his recent encounter with peril, but the Man's clear agitation worried him as his confusion with the present endured. "Foolhardy!" He mumbled again as his head moved from side to side as if arguing with some unseen assailant. "Sorry!" He gasped before a grimace of pain crossed over his features. "My arm...." He began. "... is broken! I shouldn't have..." His words stopping as he struggled for breath. "Sorry..." He bit out again before his head lolled to the side. 

  
  


Legolas' hand immediately reached forward in fright as he examined the man more closely. He found Aragorn was still conscious, though his alertness did not border on the present, and his remaining strength was ebbing dangerously thin. The elf allowed his hand to settle upon the Man's brow, convinced now that its presence was not so adverse, and he soothed his friend's hair back away from his fevered face, while he gently resettled him once again upon his back doing his best to make him comfortable. He rechecked his previous injuries while considering the words the Man had muttered only seconds before, their message suddenly taking on a new found significance as he realized where the ranger's thoughts now lay.

  
  


The ranger's recollection came from some fifteen years earlier when the elf had been visiting at Imaldris. Legolas had been on sojourn from Mirkwood to the elven realm for nearly a month's time enjoying the season with his friends. Both Elladan and Elrohir had made frequent jaunts with the fair-haired elf out into the surrounding woodlands partaking in both hunts and sometimes just outings away from the activities a buzz back home. It was during one such interval that the twins' eight year old foster brother had pleaded to accompany them, and though the Sylvan elf had not been keen about this added addition, he went along with the brothers' decision when they relented and allowed the boy to join them.

  
  


During this time away, they had been besieged by a pack of ravenous wolves while out hunting. Little rain had fallen that year, causing a drought in the surrounding area, impinging on the availability of game to be had both by hunters and predators. The contingent of elves and boy had sought what little was necessary to bring back to their home to be salted or smoked for use later on. Unfortunately the pack of wolves they had encountered had been foraging for similar quarry, and when they eventually met up, hunger drove the usually practical predators to act irrationally. 

  
  


The hunting party had paired off earlier to increase their chances at bagging some game. Legolas had gone off with Elrohir, while Elladan stayed with his younger brother, utilizing their time together to instruct Aragorn in the finer points of using his bow while keeping a close eye on his safety. The young boy cherished this time together with his older elven brothers seeking their approval while striving to prove proficient in his efforts to equal their standards.

  
  


It was during one such time alone with Elladan that the two took a break to laze in the shade of a grove of trees from the afternoon sun. Suddenly the horses, which had accompanied them on their trek began to startle and grow restless. Immediately Elladan fixed his attentions on the landscape surrounding them surmising the circumstance unfolding about them. Their steeds grew increasingly jumpy pulling against the tethers that secured them to a nearby tree. "Estel," Elladan spoke out, trying to keep his voice level so as not to worry the young boy. "See to the horses." 

  
  


Aragorn nodded, immediately complying with his older brother's wishes as Elladan moved forward allowing his eyes to scan the countryside around them. A formless line of movement dotted the approaching vista as the elf tried to narrow his line of vision to get a clearer perspective of what it was that was advancing upon them. But while Elladan stood entranced by this activity, Estel found himself overwhelmed by his responsibility to calm the horses as first one and then the other reared up upon him. His helpless cry of fright alerted his brother to his difficulty as the first horse broke free from its restraint, dashing forward to make escape from the disturbance looming upon the horizon. Elladan abandoned his stance as he rushed forward to aid the child, pulling Estel free from harm's way before he was trampled by the now frantic animal, but in doing so the elf left himself vulnerable to the spooked steed's charge and was knocked backwards being slammed hard into the terrain below him, and the brutal contact rendered him senseless. 

  
  


The child immediately rushed toward his brother's side, crying out his name, "Elladan! Elladan!" before pulling him toward safety. 

  
  


Elladan lay as quiet as death, his body limp and lifeless. Tears sprang forth from the young boy's eyes as he dropped down upon his knees doing his best to gather his brother's inert body toward him resting the elf's head upon his lap. Trickles of blood flowed from both Elladan's lips and nose and down the side of his face from a gash now present along his left temple. 

  
  


"Elladan?" The child began in a choked sob. 

  
  


What happened next was a blur to the child. The second horse snorted and brayed with agitation pulling against his restraining tie as a group of feral animals approached in the distance. The collection moved in an unusually straight line as they narrowed the stretch between them, and Aragorn fastened an untrained eye upon the danger closing in upon them. His grip tightened upon his brother's unconscious form as the realization that these wild animals were a pack of predatory wolves dawned upon the Human. 

  
  


"Elladan!" He shook his brother once again, futilely trying to rouse him. "Elladan!" He shouted as fear took hold of his small body. "We must leave now!" He continued. "They're wolves approaching! Wolves!" He continued trying to awaken his unresponsive brother, but it was too late.

  
  


The pack of wolves had reached their location. Fanning out from their line of travel to encircle the quarry in front of them, their eyes passed back and forth over the scene in front of them, assessing the prey within their sights and ascertaining which kill would prove the most advantageous. The horse still with them kicked and snorted, doing its best to break away from the confines that still held it, and the wolves turned their attentions toward the least active of their game. Slowly they moved in further, their decision now made. Though the ungulate before them would prove most fulfilling, the two smaller creatures within their sights appeared to be the easier kill, and the pack let up a resounding howl as if in agreement. Encroaching further upon the two creatures laying upon the ground, the alpha pair snarled, flashing their teeth in warning.

  
  


"Elladan!" Aragorn cried out once again, before ascertaining finally that this time his brother was unable to come to his aid, and drawing his hand forth, he reached toward the sword his brother still carried, drawing it out of its scabbard before swinging it wildly in front of him while standing upright before his brother's prostrate form. He cried out at the wolves in front of him, shouting at them in warning. "Do not come any closer!" His voice rising in crescendo as he repeated once again. "DO NOT COME ANY CLOSER!" 

  
  


The advancing pack halted their forward motion, and a few of the lower-ranking members even backed away from this strange display of activity. The leader of the group evaluated the situation before him once again, deciding not to back down as he let out a low growl and bared his teeth once more in an effort to encourage his group forward, then the alpha male lunged toward the young boy. 

  
  


Aragorn's heart stilled in his chest as he did the only thing he could think of and used the sword within his possession to ward off the attack. He delivered a glancing blow to the feral creature, but it only served to stun the predator momentarily as it regained its footing before advancing once again, growling to its companions to join in with this onslaught. This moment of reprieve that Aragorn had gained with his actions had been enough, because galloping toward the scene was his brother, Elrohir, and Legolas. 

  
  


Quickly the two elves upon horseback readied their bows as their speedy pace hastened their arrival toward the melee before them, and both archers let loose a hail of arrows toward the encroaching pack. Elrohir anxiously called out to his younger brother. "Estel! Gain cover! Quickly!"

  
  


The child shunned these words of aid, loathe to leave Elladan unprotected, and he remained beside him, guarding over him as he watched the arrows launched forth by the two elves fell many of the feral creatures, who had moments before surrounded them. It was only when a threatening growl sounded in his ears once more, that the boy realized the pack leader had not chosen to relinquish his pursuit in favor of the escape that many of his fellow survivors had decided upon with their rescuers' arrival. The gray animal arched his back as he readied to make one final charge at the two prone figures in front of him. 

  
  


Somewhere around him, the child heard a shout of warning go up to get down, but he ignored it once more, bearing the sword in his hand instead, and his eyes locked with those of the beast that bore down upon him. As the wolf sprung up to overwhelm his prey, the boy moved the sword he held forward taking a short step back as the wolf landed on top of him bringing him down roughly toward the ground below. The added weight from the animal's descent knocked the breath from the young Human's lungs, halting any further progress on his part, and he felt something snap in his arm as he made contact with the rough terrain, losing the sword in the process as a blinding pain gathered through him causing the child to cry out in release. 

  
  


"Estel?" A voice beckoned anxiously.

  
  


The burden of the wolf was still upon the boy, and he waited for the wild animal to continue its assault, waited for the gnashing of its teeth and the tearing of its claws to join the pain already coursing through his body, but no further discomfort arrived as the animal was slowly drug away from his thin frame, and the child finally acknowledged that Elladan's sword was deeply impaled within the dead creature's chest. 

  
  


Legolas stared down upon him, his eyes filled with shocked disbelief as he surmised the child beneath the wolf was relatively unharmed, and the elf's body shook in fervent response. 

  
  


"Estel!" A concerned voice called out to him again, and the boy realized that it was indeed his brother, Elrohir. "Estel!" He grounded out as he dropped down beside his small brother, and gathered him into his arms, his utter relief apparent as he incredulously replied. "You are safe...safe!" 

The boy tried to stifle a cry of pain as his brother's grip upon him tightened causing the elf to draw back and look over the child once more. "What is it little one?" He asked

  
  


"My arm...it's my arm. I think it's broken." Aragorn's voice trembled with both pain and exertion. 

  
  


Elrohir gently reached forward to examine it more closely, and the boy pulled back both in pain and fright. "No, Elrohir! I'll be fine! It's Elladan! See to him! He's the one, who is grievously injured!" 

  
  


The raven haired elf hesitated, but only momentarily, as he moved toward his twin, whom Legolas was now beside and began to evaluate his condition. 

  
  


Allowing the Rivendell elf to administer his superior healing knowledge, Legolas took a step aside to lend him some space while his eyes turned back in the direction of the young boy again. Thinking back to the scene they had rode up upon, he couldn't get past the turbulent feelings that the small child's actions had stirred within him. What the boy had done had been foolhardy. He had risked both his own life and that of his brother's taking posture against the wild predator. The elf was in awe that one so young could prove so brave, but it also troubled him deeply to think of the risk Aragorn had taken upon himself, and with that emotion still playing heavily upon him he spoke out rashly.

  
  


"Your actions were foolhardy, boy!" The Sylvan elf retorted, looking down at the discomposed figure before him. "You could have gotten yourself killed along with your brother!"

  
  


Aragorn's large eyes stared back at the immortal being towering over him as he tried to answer. His only response was a choked sob as his eyes filled with tears and clutching his injured arm closer toward his body, he took off away from the scene surrounding him.

  
  


Though busily administering to his brother, Legolas' harsh words had not gone unheeded by his fellow companion and Elrohir spoke out. "Your words were uncalled for, my friend!"

  
  


"But..." The elf began in defense before Elrohir interrupted him. 

  
  


"The boy quite possibly saved his own life and that of my brother's, and the fact that they are both still drawing breath and will recover from their wounds, only urges me to offer thanks that the Valar was watching over them in their time of need."

  
  


Legolas stared back at his companion, but said no more as he moved off to collect the arrows they had spent during the attack. 

  
  


Drawing Elladan into a more comfortable position before pulling his cloak up over his still unresponsive form, Elrohir moved off to find Aragorn. He did not have to look far, since both pain and exhaustion kept the boy fairly close by. "Estel" he breathed as he caught up to him, drawing the boy gently forward before carefully enfolding the youth within his arms so as not to cause him further discomfort. "Thank goodness, you're alright!"

  
  


"Elladan?" The child's choked sob of response was muffled as he buried his head against the fabric of his brother's tunic. 

  
  


"Elladan will be just fine." His brother answered reassuringly. "If it wasn't for the fact that he has such a hard head, things might have proved otherwise."

  
  


Aragorn sobbed again as he began. "I'm sorry Elrohir, I didn't mean..." 

  
  


"Hush, brother! All will be fine. There is no reason for regret. You did what you thought was best...what was necessary. You are brave, little one." And the elf hugged him closer momentarily forgetting the pain that such an embrace might cause the boy as he allowed his own relief to take hold. Drawing the youth back from him finally, the elf's eyes methodically moved toward his injured appendage. "I must see to your arm, Estel. I can't promise this won't hurt, but I'll be as gentle as I can with my healing."

  
  


Moving the boy toward a nearby tree, he sat him upon the ground, placing his back against its trunk to impede any further movement on the youth's part if he needed to reset the bone. Grimly he surmised it was a clean break but that the bone would still have to be realigned and a splint applied to hinder any unnecessary movement. Calling to his companion, he requested Legolas' assistance in finding some branches that would be suitable for this purpose, and some lengths of cloth to use in securing it in place. 

  
  


As the other elf approached with what Elrohir required, the younger twin grasped his brother's arm within his own. His eyes looked down into those of the youth's, their depths reflecting the kindness and love that suffused his soul, and he smiled at his young brother trying to reassure him once more that all would be well. Then quickly, without warning, he performed the necessary procedure as the young boy's body stiffened in shock while his mind let go. Elrohir quickly moved forward to catch the weight of his young brother, easing his now still form gently down upon the ground beneath them while commenting softly. "Yes, Estel, let go of the pain. All will be well!"

  
  


Legolas stood but a short distance away, mesmerized by the love he witnessed before him, finding himself a little envious of the bond between both human and elven brother as he finally spoke up. "He has a brave heart."

  
  


"That he does, my friend..." The Rivendell elf agreed as he continued his ministrations. "... and one with the capacity to exhibit great love."

  
  


Legolas smiled down at the child now the man before him as he remembered how he tried to make amends for his behavior later on, promising to help the boy become more proficient with a bow once his arm had healed. The boy readily accepted, finding it easy to forgive his transgression. "Your brother was right, nin mellon." Legolas commented as he stroked the brow of his friend. "You do possess a great capacity to love and be loved by all who know you. You must not forget that and get well my friend, for too many hearts depend on you."

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.**

_**Author's note: Thank you, Isadora! Chapter 4 was a favorite of mine especially the last part between Aragorn, Elrohir and Legolas. :) As you can see, flashbacks are a favorite device of mine. I believe people can find comfort or release with their memories. I've read many different takes on how Legolas and Aragorn first met and became friends from different authors, and through my own story I wanted to create a more hesitant bond between the two at least in the beginning.**_

_**Readers, I made a mistake in chapter 3 when noting that Aragorn's left arm was confined so he had to try and shake the leaves off of him with his right. It is actually his right arm that Legolas had bound. Sorry for the mix up!**_

_**I hope you enjoy this next part:)**_

Moving forward toward his goal, sleepless dreams filled the elf's travels. The Fist Born possessed the ability to go on for days without rest, but during these times while their bodies kept working their minds sometimes strayed into sleep like trances. Legolas tried to keep his mind from slipping into one, but with the added stress that he had endured over these last few days compounded with injuries his body had sustained, he found it an increasingly difficult task to accomplish.

For over a day's time, through both daylight and night's shadow, Legolas had continuously towed the litter that bore his friend as they journeyed onward toward Rivendell. He had ignored his own pain and the start of a fever, the result of untreated injuries, as he gathered distance over the terrain, stopping only for brief intervals in which to try to cool Aragorn's raging fever and to encourage his friend to swallow a few sips of water. Each break in travel was proving increasingly taxing to the elf's emotions and reserve as his friend slipped further and further away from him. The restless motions of the ranger's body had stilled sometime ago, and though his eyes remained open, they appeared listless. Aragorn's skin had taken on a grayish hue and was covered with sweat, while his mouth now hung open as his body's struggle to gain breath increased.

The elf's spirit clashed within him as he watched this battle wage on within the Man's body, knowing that it was by his hand that his friend now suffered. Feelings of helplessness permeated his soul, and to push them away he would talk or sometimes chant as his feet moved forward over the path leading toward Aragorn's home. At first he perceived such action on his part to be inane, but as their course continued, he realized that his words and songs somehow penetrated the deep fog that kept the Human captive and helped to ease the ranger's distress.

At first they had begun as elven verses, but the lure of their melody furthered to distract Legolas' attentions toward these sleepless dreams that held his mind, and he felt it dangerous to continue on with them. He needed to keep alert to his surroundings for fear that additional interlopers might impinge upon their travels, so he switched to speech. At the start, it was just frivolous musings regarding the landscape they were passing through, remarking on the flora, fauna, rock formations, and the native animals that dwelt there, but eventually his pattern changed and he began mentioning events from their past finding comfort himself in these familiar remembrances.

Finishing up one such recollection, the elf gazed up into the afternoon sky, observing the position the sun held within it. He estimated the hour of the day to be around the 16th, while his eyes moved lower to pass over the surrounding landscape. He wished that he was more familiar with this particular environ they were now traveling through, so he could calculate with more accuracy the number of hours left to their trek. The best he could do was place its duration somewhere between three to six hours barring any unforseen complications. If Aragorn was alert, he would be able to tell him with certainty, but his friend was long past offering any cognizant advice.

Easing the harness he had fashioned from twine from his shoulders, Legolas extended his weary arms forward to stretch his cramped muscles after lowering the travios to the ground. He then turned to move back toward his friend. The sight that met him as he did unnerved the elf. For in that heart wrenching moment, he discovered that what he had feared most had taken place without his knowing. Aragorn's body was completely limp, his eyes shut to the world around him, his head lolled to the side and his jaw now slack. Frozen with horror, the elf's eyes quickly moved toward the Man's chest searching for some sign that Aragorn's body still sought to draw breath, but he detected no such movement. An inarticulate cry escaped his lips as he fell to his knees beside his friend. Tears glistened in his eyes as the muscles in his throat contracted choking off a sob that rose up. Tremors coursed through his body as Legolas recognized that Aragorn had finally succumbed to his injuries. The breath of life had left his body and with it his soul had fled sometime during this last length they had traveled. Anguish suffused the elf, and he reached forward to cradle one hand behind Aragorn's still head as his other hand grasped his shoulders to gather the Dunadan's body within his arms. The elf's head fell toward the Man's chest in defeat as his tears began to flow.

" No, Aragorn, No! Please don't leave me, nin mellon!" He cried out only to find his voice cut short by emotion as his grief overwhelmed him. The elf's mind finally gripped the harsh reality that he would never see his friend's animated features again, never hear his voice, the sound of his laughter, or the glint of mischief that filled his gray eyes whenever he was up to something. He had acknowledged to himself when he had sought out the Human's friendship that some day he would lose Aragorn to the Fate of Men, he had been reluctant to form such a bond because of this, but he had never considered that it would arrive so forthwith not even with all that had befallen them. The elf had held out hope that they would reach Rivendell in time, but now that hope had been lost, and he would never again have the chance to share his friend's company. "I am sorry, Estel. The blame lays with me..." He stammered as tears of agony flowed forth followed by accompanying sobs that shook the elf's body, and he tightened his hold around Aragorn as his mind retraced these facts. In death a Human's spirit would depart toward the Halls of Mandos, but unlike his elven brethren, who had lost their lives in battle or found their souls diminished by despair, Men's souls did not stay there but would proceed onward away from this world and leave its borders to some other fate.

"Aragorn!" The bereaved elf wept looking upward toward the seemingly endless cloud-covered heavens above them. "Aragorn!" He beseeched again as if calling out to his friend's departing soul in once last attempt to halt its progress. Then he allowed his head to fall forward, and Legolas ran his hand through the ranger's tangled hair, bringing his friend's face toward his own. The elf's tears fell to wet the still warm flesh of his countenance, and he moved forward allowing his lips to rest against the Man's brow while he began to utter his final goodbye. "My friend..." He choked until his voice stilled in his body as he felt an almost imperceptible stir of breath against his hair and neck.

Legolas' heart began to beat faster with incomprehensible awe as he shakily raised his palm toward the man's face, holding it mere inches away from his nose and mouth almost afraid to trust, but he felt it again, an almost undetectable trace of exhalation exited his friend's body. Dropping his head to the Man's chest, he distinguished its weak rise and fall and finally a faint heart still beating within. Legolas looked toward the heavens in disbelief and wonder, pondering if the Iluvator had granted them a reprieve.

Strangely, he found words of Aragorn's coming back to comfort him, "Today is not a day to die, my friend." not realizing he had spoken them aloud. Legolas looked back toward his friend, and stopped questioning this gift they had been given, immediately lowering the Man back onto the pallet. He did not delay the time spent on further ministrations for he realized that if indeed Aragorn had been granted a brief respite from death's grasp, then he needed aid beyond the meager attempts his hands could offer. He would not hesitate any further in prolonging to get his friend to the one who could administer such help.

Reaching toward the ground, he retrieved the harness he had only moments before abandoned, and looped it back over his shoulders as he strode forward with an increased pace, while his mind played back over his last words. "Today is not a day to die." Aragorn had issued forth this same statement during a very bleak time in their acquaintance. It had been more than six years prior...

Legolas had found himself companioned with a 16-year-old Aragorn against his better judgement. Nothing could have surprised him more than when the teenaged boy had met up with him at the stables that morning of their departure. When he had accepted this commission during the late hours of the previous night, he was sure the Lord of Imaldris would pair him with one of his two elven sons, Elladan or Elrohir, or perhaps both. To learn that the elven lord had sent his youngest, human son to be his companion on this assignment stirred deep misgiving within the archer, but he could not find it within himself to dispute Lord Elrond's decision. Five short days later as he found himself beaten and bound beside the boy, he regretted he hadn't.

The two had been sent out on a scouting mission into the foothills of Hithaeglir to report on the increasing shadow that had spread over the territory. During their campaign, their presence had been discovered. They were greatly outnumbered and though both elf and Man had fought valiantly against their foes, the two were overcome.

A swift death had not been the ignoble orcs' intent, and the two were carried back to their encampment. Beaten and abused, the elf concluded that the orcs derived pleasure in toying with their captives, driving them to the brink of despair only to relent at the last possible moment, so they could trifle with them again later. They found immense gratification in humiliating the elf especially, perhaps, because at one time they had shared a similar history with his race, until the atrocity of the imprisonment from which this bitterest of races was begotten, one defiled by evil and ugliness.

After suffering one last particularly brutal beating, the orcs had dumped Legolas' battered body back beside his bound friend not troubling to secure his hands or feet, feeling that the blows they had dealt the elf would incapacitate him until they wished to derive further pleasure. His companion's breath caught in his throat as he witnessed the abuse the elf had born at their captors' hands. Bruises covered his face and welts appeared along his body beneath the torn fabric of his garments. The elf's breaths came in short, choked gasps as further testament to the mistreatment he had suffered. Realizing the archer would not be able to withstand any further punishment and that his own turn would soon follow, the boy worked anxiously at loosening the ropes that restrained his hands. The fell creatures had been negligent in their last attempt to tie him up, and using the strength he still possessed, Aragorn worked toward freeing himself, ignoring the pain that his actions were causing him. Eventually he felt the coarse ropes break and give way, and immediately he was up upon his feet and beside the injured elf as he attempted to rouse him from his pain-filled stupor.

"Legolas!" His voice hissed in whisper. "It is Estel. I am free. You must get up. We need to get away!" Pain filled eyes fluttered open to meet those of the boy's before him, as he repeated his words again. "We need to flee!"

"Can't..." The elf groaned as he added, "Save yourself..." before closing his eyes again.

"I won't go without you!" The boy asserted.

"Don't be foolish..." The elf slurred. "My presence will only slow you down. They'll catch up to us...don't forfeit your life for mine."

Aragorn stared back at the elf before him as he muttered a muffled oath. "Such a stubborn race...I'm not going without you! My life will not be forfeited. Today is not a day to die, my friend!" Gathering the elf's abused body within his arms, he lifted Legolas with a strength the immortal being did not realize he possessed.

"You were right, my friend." The elf spoke out remembering the days that followed as the boy, who at that moment had become a Man in his eyes struggled to get him to Rivendell, nursing him back to health along the way, and a bond that he had been reluctant to develop had formed. "It was not a day to die, nin mellon, and neither is this one! Hold on, Estel!"

Author's note: Well if you've reached this note, then you made it through the chapter. :) Perhaps it was cruel of me to do what I did. Did Aragorn come back to life? In my mind, I'd say no. With the precarious state of Legolas' emotions and his well being, I see him more likely mistaking that his friend had died, but the real choice is up to the reader. I hope to have the two reach Rivendell by next chapter. I see possibly two or three more chapters after that. Sue aka Quickbeam


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters

Author's note. Thank you to my reviewers! Your kind words really make my day!. :) Sorry it took so long to write this latest chapter. I had the basic idea in my head of where it was going, but it was a struggle to write.

I've noticed I've been spelling Silvan incorrectly, and that it is not spelled with a y as I have been previously spelling it. Please excuse this mistake. I've use a few other elvish words in this latest chapter, and have included an interpretation key at the end of it. I did some research to find them, but please excuse any mistakes I might have made. I am not well versed in elvish. :)

I hope you enjoy this latest chapter:)

Relesen-Chapter 6

Many hours later, Legolas was no longer immune to the lure of the sleepless dreams that pulled at the corners of his awareness, and his weary mind finally surrendered to their power. They effectively worked against him to hamper his inborn adeptness toward being both fleet footed and keen sighted. If Legolas had been aware of his image during this last stretch of his arduous journey, he would surely have been appalled to acknowledge the unusual awkwardness his body betrayed, but mounting pain and building fever hindered such information from cutting through the tempered memories that had now filled his brain. Not even the constant snatching or tearing of the sweeping branches from the overgrown thicket they were passing through could register as anything more than a mild annoyance as he pushed onward, but what proved most frightening was his inability to read the placement of others in his immediate surroundings. Their movement was both stealth and able, keeping their identities concealed from him until they were ready to proclaim their intentions.

The blur of activity, which suddenly converged upon the path in front of the Silvan elf, served to block his attempts at advance. Legolas did little more than throw up his arms to ward off this new found interference, reacting as if he were brushing aside yet another the offending branches that had hindered his progress thus far. His fevered brain did not register the words of warning that the crowd before him issued forth, and it wasn't until he felt hands being laid upon him, that he realized the serious nature of this new menace. An irrational fury awakened within the elf as he tore himself away from the grasping hands that thwarted his progress and in immanent response he reached for his daggers.

The appearance of his weapons prompted those before him to back away, but they did not bolt as the dazed elf half expected, instead they appealed to the immortal creature before them to halt his movements. Legolas' brain, however, was impenetrable to their discourse, and the blockade they had erected before him only spurred the elf on in his stance to protect what he considered his own. He swept forward in objection to their intrusion as he voiced his displeasure at the delay they were causing him, shouting out. "Rado! Rado! Make Way!"

"Daro elvellon!" They called back, hoping to halt his progress, while placating his ill humor at the same time, but he continued forward in this irrational manner calling out.

"Bedi! Bedi! Go! Leave us!"

The company did not break form, but only moved backwards somewhat with haste, leery of the intentions of their fair-haired brethren, for Legolas could not perceive that the small group assembled in front of him was actually a Rivendell sentry that guarded this particular border of the elven realm. The Mirkwood elf's movements had been observed with close scrutiny for many miles now as he forged onward through the densely covered thicket that surrounded them, and a message had been dispatched back to the realm to inform the court in session of this unusual siting. In the covert darkness of nightfall, the wary Rivendell contingent yielded to Legolas with prudent regard as they questioned the bizarre behavior of their Silvan brethren and the mysterious burden he drug behind him.

As they continued considering their options, a group of riders rode up beside them, reaching the rearmost guard, who turned to respond to their approach. He was relieved to note that among their ranks were the sons of Elrond. Elladan and Elrohir halted the progress of their horses and dismounted quickly, immediately taking note of the action surrounding them as the guard beside them spoke up.

"My lords." He greeted. "It is good that you have arrived. We do not know what to make of this situation." He finished at a loss.

Moving through the patrol, the twins advanced toward the front, coming to a quick halt as their eyes met up with the startling revelation in front of them. For within their line of vision stood their beloved companion, Legolas, and they were alarmed by his grievous state. The usually immaculately groomed elf's face was now scored with cuts and abrasions, the clothes he wore were ripped and stained with blood, his hair fell in tangles about his face, and around his stooped shoulders were strung two cords that were drawn taut and attached to some burden he pulled behind him.

"Legolas?" Elrohir called out in confusion and concern as he took in his friend's startling appearance, while noting his erratic behavior as well. "What has happened to you, my friend?" He continued as he attempted to step forward toward him.

It seemed that the Silvan elf had heard his words, but his blue eyes did not make contact with Elrohir's, appearing glazed with confusion, and as the Rivendell elf drew closer, Legolas raised his hand to strike out. Elladan reached forward to grasp hold of his brother's arm, immediately halting his forward progress and saving him from the downward slash of Legolas's dagger as the archer before them shouted out once again in agitation. "Rado! Rado!"

Elrohir swallowed hard and turned concerned eyes toward his twin as Elladan tried to reason with the disturbed elf. "Legolas, it is I, Elladan, and Elrohir is with me, nin mellon. Pray, tell us what has happened to you?"

Legolas ignored his entreaty, only moving closer as he cried out once again. "Rado si!"

The brothers peered back in bewilderment at Legolas, puzzled by his apparent appearance and behavior. Though darkness cloaked the area around them, the moon above illuminated the landscape sufficiently enough for the pair to realize that the fair-haired elf was not only acting irrationally, but that he was attempting to protect something that he carried behind him. Elladan implored to the Silvan elf again in a final attempt to break through the mist of confusion that surrounded him. "Legolas, we mean you no harm. It is I, Elladan. Please nin mellon, put down your arms. We do not wish to harm you. Do not be alarmed. We are only here to help."

Elladan's last word seemed to break through the fog that had enveloped his friend as Legolas repeated it shakily, "Help? Yes, help! I must get to help! Bedi! Bedi! Bedi si!" The archer proclaimed as he lunged forward swinging his daggers high to do away with what he perceived was the threatening menace which prevented him from attaining this goal.

The twins reacted readily and attempted to subdue Legolas, while endeavoring to preserve their own safety without causing him any further harm. Responding with haste the younger twin knocked one of the daggers free from his friend's hands, while his brother acted toward restraining the use of his other arm, while forcefully grasping it to dislodge the final weapon Legolas held. The elf fought vehemently against them as the two struggled to restrict his further actions, and the contingent behind them streamed forward to come to their aid, prompting Elrohir to call out, "Careful! Careful! We have no wish to harm him further!" as the fair-haired elf was dragged downward toward the ground below him, being wrenched free from the burden he had carried in the process.

A cry of anguish escaped from the Mirkwood elf as this realization hit him, causing Elladan to call forth in alarm. "Stand back! Stand back!"

The twins dropped down beside their still restless friend doing their best to soothe his discomfort, while maintaining their hold upon his fevered body, but Legolas wailed despondently. "Bedi! Bedi!" before finally crying out. "Estel!"

The mention of their Human brother's name drew both of the elve's attentions, and as Elrohir made to question his friend, he was interrupted by one of the guards, who had moved back to examine what it was that Legolas had been dragging behind him.

"My lords!" He called out unable to contain the trouble that now filled his voice.

"What is it, Bartara?" Responded a drained Elladan.

"Tis your brother." Bartára answered as Elladan distractedly looked toward Elrohir worried that perhaps he had sustained a wound while trying to disarm Legolas.

"Nay, my lord," Bartára replied, noting the direction of the elder twin's attentions, and he finished with. "Tis Estel!"

It was the second time within short minutes that their youngest brother's name had been uttered, first by the distraught Legolas and now by their anxious guard.

"Pray tell..." Elladan continued breathlessly as Bartára interrupted.

"It is he that the Prince of Mirkwood was carrying upon this litter!"

"What?" Elrohir called out in alarm as Elladan sought to take complete control over Legolas' agitated form, while the younger twin immediately gained his footing to rush back toward the litter while Bartára finished.

"It is Estel..." The guard repeated shakily, while peering down at the cloak covered bundle before him, seriously wondering if perhaps they had been too late in making this discovery.

Rado-Make way

Daro-Halt

Elvellon-Elf friend

Bedi-Go

Bedi si-Go now

Author's note: Many thanks to my readers! In the next chapter, they will reach Rivendell.

White Wolf- Thank you for all your comments! I could never let the man, who graces my screen saver, die-though perhaps I shouldn't mention that fact in the middle of my story. :) I've never been reluctant to kill off a character if the story line calls for it, but I don't think I could do that in a LOTR's story especially when the character is such a fixture to all future developments that will take place.

Thank you Singing Wolf, Patty, and Ruth for your kind words. They really mean a lot to me. :) I intend to finish this story in a few more chapters, possibly four since I didn't get quite as far with this one as I had hoped to. I'm not rushing to finish it. My goal is to try and finish it in the next two to three weeks if time permits. I have two other non LOTR's stories that I'm involved in. Both are group efforts that I've been writing with for a few years now on another site. I promised my friends that I would return my concentration to them shortly. I hope someday to perhaps write another LOTR's story when time permits.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.

  
  


Author's Note: Thank you to all my reviewers and readers! Your kind words make writing this story all the more worthwhile! Thank you for taking the time to let me know that you are enjoying my efforts! :) I hope you enjoy this latest chapter! :)

  
  


Relesen Chapter 7

  
  
  
  


Elrohir dropped down beside the litter that contained his youngest brother's still body in stunned silence. The elf's eyes swept over the Man's inert form, and he felt his throat tighten with emotion. Swathed in cloaks, Aragorn's pale figure appeared vulnerable for a Human of his stature. "Estel?" Elrohir's voice trembled with unchecked emotion. "What has happened to you, my brother?" He continued, while allowing his hands to draw back the coverings to expose the wounds that lay hidden beneath. 

  
  


"Elrohir?" Elladan called out expectantly, unable to control the alarm that laced his speech as he kept both of his arms wrapped tightly around Legolas' still struggling form. "What is it, brother?"

  
  


Elrohir swallowed hard, trying to regain some of his previous composure before answering Elladan, but he could not keep in check the tears that begun to pool behind the darkened depths of his eyes. Hesitantly he moved his hand toward the crook in Aragorn's neck, almost afraid to trust that the beat of life still coursed through the young Human's veins. He bit back a sob as he felt a faint throb, and his hand proceeded to moved downward toward the Man's bandaged laden torso, their fabric stained crimson with his blood. He did not bother to unravel their lengths, for he knew his brother's condition was beyond any aid he could render to him out here, as Elladan's disconcerted voice broke through the hazy silence that now enveloped him. 

  
  


"Elrohir...brother, please, tell me of Estel!" Elladan pleaded. "Does he live?"

  
  


"Yes, Elladan," Elrohir answered, unable to keep the anxiety, that now threatened to overwhelm him, from his voice, and he was met by the sound of a harsh intake of relief from his older twin. "but he is grievously wounded."

  
  


"What?" Elladan spat out. "What has happened to him?"

  
  


"I'm not sure... not sure..." Elrohir continued, shaking his head in distress. "We must get him back to Rivendell...We must get him to father immediately!"

  
  


"But he will all right, brother?" Elladan pressed on, his heart sinking as he was met by Elrohir's ashen complexion. "He will live, Elrohir, won't he? Father will be able to help him?"

  
  


Elrohir's stricken eyes met with those of his older brother's as he shakily uttered the words that he most feared to voice. "I'm not sure . . . "

  
  


Quickly, Elladan averted his gaze, unable to control the emotions now coursing through his own body as he focused his attentions back upon the scrambling elf still within his hold. "Legolas," He breathed. "What happened to him? Who did this to our brother?" The elf within his arms did not respond to his inquiries, as he jerked and wrenched against the bonds that he perceived held him. Elladan was tiring fast from his effort to restrain the struggling prince, but he managed to reach one of his hands forward to grasp the chin of his friend, stilling his motions momentarily as he tried to gain his attention, while he issued forth these questions once again. "Who did this to Estel, Legolas? What happened to him? What happened to both of you, nin mellon?"

  
  


The Silvan elf's motions ceased. His eyes and face mirrored the deep anguish of his raven-haired companion's, as Elladan's words finally penetrated the deep mist that had been encompassing his brain. He opened his mouth to speak, but his words would not come, and his only response was a choked sob of grief. Elladan's face crumpled with remorse, while he watched Legolas weep openly at the recollection he had forced upon him, and he gathered the elf into his embrace. The Rivendell elf could not quell the rising tide of anger building within him, as he thought about who or what had caused his brother and his friend such anguish and pain. His now free hands clenched in reaction as they encircled the grief-stricken elf, while the blood that coursed through his veins increased in its rush as he vowed to himself that those responsible for these abominable actions would pay dearly for the grief they had caused.

  
  


While Elladan was grappling with these new found emotions, Elrohir began issuing forth orders to the elves surrounding him. The younger elf wanted do nothing more than gather Arargorn's prone body swiftly within his arms, and rush him back home upon horseback, but he knew his foster brother would not be able to withstand such an arduous journey, so the elf began making other arrangements. Immediately, he sent the other two riders, that had accompanied them out from Imaldris, back to the hall to alert his father to their findings and allow the Eldar time to prepare what would be necessary to treat the injured party's wounds. Then, he set about grasping the front of the litter, while he directed Bartara to do the same to its rear, as he prepared to set out on foot for the remainder of this journey. Finally, he turned to his brother to appeal to him. "Elladan, we must make haste! Please see to Legolas!"

  
  


The older twin turned stunned eyes toward his brother as he witnessed his departure. "Elrohir?" He uttered, but his exclamation was lost in the blackness surrounding them as the younger elf's and Bartara's figures grew faint and then disappeared completely into the darkened woodland around them. Elladan was at a loss for words as he turned his attentions back toward the battered elf within his embrace, before raising a comforting hand to stroke Legolas' hair and back, while muttering softly to his friend, "He will be all right, Legolas. You both will. Father will see to you." Elladan issued his final, choked words to the star lit heavens above them. "Dear Elbereth, he has to be all right! Please watch over my brother this night!"

  
  


Elladan then turned his attentions to the remaining sentry surrounding them. "Please, get my horse! I must get Legolas back to Rivendell!" Swiftly the elves encircling him complied with his directive, and immediately brought forth his steed. Gently Elladan made to stand bringing Legolas' trembling form with him, before shifting his weight to the elf closest to him for support. The raven-haired elf mounted his charge, as the immortal being, with whom he had entrusted Legolas' temporary care, lifted the Silvan elf upwards and placed the fair-haired archer upon his lord's son's horse. Elladan quickly clasped Legolas' shaky form to him, not trusting the Mirkwood elf's dwindling strength to keep himself upright upon their steed for the remainder of their journey, and with utmost haste, he galloped off toward Rivendell.

  
  


The household was in turmoil upon Elladan's arrival back at Imaldris, having only short minutes before received the news of the forthcoming discord. Household servants under their lord's explicit orders were readying for the wounded. Herbs and liniments were being fetched, blankets, sheets, and bandages prepared, and hot water and healing instruments readied. Elladan was just easing Legolas from his mount when a flurry of activity from behind him drew his attentions. Miraculously this cacophony heralded the arrival of his brother and Bartara and the litter they carried. Lowering the device down upon the hard marble floor of the outer passageway, the two elves in unison, quickly lifted Aragorn's injured body up into their arms and bore him off toward the entrance hallway. Elladan caught a quick glimpse of the back of his father's golden robes and his dark flowing hair as it swayed in movement as he met up with them, and turned to follow the two elves carrying his injured son. 

  
  


Elladan swiftly turned his attentions back to his charge, and gently lowered Legolas toward the ground. The fair-haired elf stumbled before falling into him, his strength now completely spent. Elladan wrapped one of his arms around the Silvan archer's waist while dragging Legolas' other arm around his shoulder to support him, while they slowly made their way down the hallway before them, seeking out the room his two fellow companions had taken Aragorn to. 

  
  


Legolas had not uttered a single word on their trip back to Rivendell, and presently as he clung to Elladan, he maintained this silence as they stopped outside the doorway that led into the room where Aragorn now lay. Aragorn's still figure had been placed upon a narrow chaise which allowed access from both sides. His father hovered over the Man, speedily removing the last remnants of the tattered tunic that covered his upper torso before reaching hastily toward a pair of sheers that lay upon a nearby table to cut open his son's soiled bandages Strain and uncertainty lined his face as he ministered to his foster son, while a flourish of activity milled around him. Several other elves filled the room ready to offer their assistance to the healer including his own son, Elrohir. Elladan with Legolas remained just outside the doorway, waiting expectantly for some word from his father. They watched as the elder healer moved from the Aragorn's left side to his right to free the blood soaked bandages from his Human son's second wound. 

The healer's eyes focused with close scrutiny on the intricately dressed wound as he began to unravel its packing, while realizing with finality that Aragorn had been shot with an arrow and that a large piece of the shaft was still deeply embedded within his son's flesh. Reaching for a wet cloth, he used its moisture to loosen the dried blood adhering the packing to the wound and shaft as he made to speak out, before suddenly halting his efforts. A light of recognition dawned in Lord Elrond's eyes as he studied the wound and its protruding shaft more closely, and they moved instantly toward the door making the briefest of contact with Legolas' before he gained control over himself once more, and swiftly focused his undivided attentions back upon his son. Though his hands trembled slightly, his concentration remained steady, as he continued on with his healing ministrations, but the words he now considered were issued brusquely forth to those surrounding him. 

  
  


"Elladan, quickly get Legolas to his room! He's about to collapse on his feet! I will see to his needs as soon as I can!" If his eldest twin was slighted by his father's curt remarks, he did not let on, and he proceeded down the hallway supporting his injured friend. 

  
  


The Eldar's words to his second son would prove more forbidding and hurtful as he went on. "Elrohir, go and help your brother!"

  
  


"But father, I wish to stay with Estel." Elrohir interrupted.

  
  


"I don't have time to argue! Now go!" His father repeated, not bothering to turn and meet the pained look that filled the younger twin's eyes, as he only repeated his previous commandment. "Go!"

  
  


Elrohir hesitated, but he did not disobey his father's terse commands, knowing to do so would only hamper his efforts toward aiding his stricken brother, but the elf was loathe to leave Estel, while his life still hung so precariously in the balance. Tears streamed down Elrohir's face as he made his way out into the hallway, and he tried unsuccessfully to scrub them away with the back of his hand ,while he proceeded down the long corridor that led to the family's quarters. As he rounded the corner, he heard a loud commotion coming from the guest chambers, and he hastened his steps. Upon entering the threshold, he found his older brother a few short feet away from his Legolas. Elladan stared on in disbelief as Legolas used whatever reserve of strength he had left, and backed away from him, throwing up his hands to ward off his friend's advance ,while he shouted out at him through tear-stained eyes. "Don't touch me! Leave me be!" 

  
  
  
  


Author's note: I hope I am not making Legolas' behavoir too out of character for the readers. Through my research I have found out that elves have more beauty than any other creatures on Middle Earth, but they also possess the most extreme happiness and sorrow. IMO with all Legolas has been through from the start, it is only natural that he would be experiencing this breakdown in emotions. 

  
  


I also don't feel that it is bad or a sign of weakness for a man or elf to show their emotions through grief and tears. One of my favorite passages comes from a book by Jane Kirkpatrick entitled "A Sweetness to the Soul" in which she writes the following.* 

  
  


"Of all the gifts he ever gave me, his willingness to share his tears, I count most precious. It was a gift I held with tenderness despite how frightened his crying made me. No man has ever laid his feelings on my shoulder. It is only later that I understood how a man of strength must be yielding too or he will surely break. I was pleased to be a person he chose to bend with." *

  
  


*A Sweetness to the Soul by Jane Kirkpatrick- Chapter 4-Panama Loss

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.

Author's note: Thank you to all my readers and reviewers! Your comments as always are greatly appreciated and help to put a smile on my face as I read over them. :) I hope you enjoy this next chapter:)

Relesen Chapter 8

The crowded room had emptied, and the hectic rush of activity that previously presided over it was now replaced by an uncomfortable silence. The sole occupant, who remained, wearily seated himself beside the supine figure upon the chaise. Elrond rested his elbows upon the cushioned furniture, and allowed his head to drop forward, catching its weight within his hands as his fingers made contact with the delicate flesh beside his eyes and along the curve of his nose. Taking a moment, he used his fingers to relieve some of the stress that these previous hours had wrought before moving his hands away and back toward the lounger. Opening his eyes once more, he viewed Aragorn's unconscious form, finally allowing himself another perspective. It was no longer necessary for the elf lord to remain aloof and force his emotions aside to resemble those of a distant observer. The child, he had taken in as a young boy, now lay before him a Man. His ravaged body remained unmoving upon the cushions supporting his weight, barely betraying any hint of existence save for the shallow, uneven breaths his body still managed to claim. His countenance was devoid of all color except for the telltale signs of fever that flushed across his cheekbones, and this caused the stir of trepidation to increase within the elf lord's breast.

Elrond had spent the better part of these past hours tending to his youngest son's wounds. The arrow, which had pierced Aragorn's right shoulder, had proven to be the more serious of his two injuries, though the angry laceration, wrought by the orc scimitar, also appeared inflamed and quite ragged. To remove the arrow, Elrond had been forced to cut into his son's flesh, then diligently repair the extensive damage that the wayward projectile had inflicted upon both vessels and tissue. The elf acknowledged grimly to himself after completing this delicate operation that if the arrow had been removed while his son was still out in the wild, Aragorn would have surely bled to death before ever reaching the borders of their homeland.

During the grueling minutes that had preceded, Elrond had been forced to keep his complete attention centered solely upon his tasks as a healer, but now that the last of Aragorn's wounds had been sewn up, the last of his medicinal herbs employed, and the last of the Man's bandages sufficiently bound, he could finally look upon the Human before him as a father would his son, and the emotions he had been holding so tightly in check began to falter. "Estel..." Elrond breathed roughly while reaching out to lay a gentle hand upon the still heated flesh of Aragorn's face. "You must get better. I am unclear as to what took place in the wilderness between Legolas and yourself, but I am certain that your future welfare will both be dependent upon your making a recovery. You must fight hard, my son." Reaching down toward the coverlet, Elrond clasped Aragorn's left hand within his own. "Use the strength and love surrounding you, Estel, in this final battle. Let it aid you in finding your way back to us."

Elrond released Aragorn's hand, placing it softly back upon the quilt that covered him, before making to stand. Leaning toward his son, he blinked back the tears that threatened to fall, and moved forward to place a light kiss upon the Human's brow. This intimate display of affection, however, was immediately interrupted by a soft knock upon the door behind him acting to distract the elf lord's attentions. If the presence of his sons' steward and long time tutor surprised him, Elrond's face did not show the emotion.

"My lord." The steward spoke up.

"Cerindur." Elrond acknowledged.

"May I..." The steward implored only to falter as his liege beckoned to him to enter the room. Elrond knew it would be only a matter of time before more of his household staff would stop by to inquire about the state of Aragorn's health. The Human was held in great esteem by all, who knew him, within the realm of Imaldris, and though the elf lord was appreciative of this fact, he knew that the success of Aragorn's recovery would depend upon him receiving uninterrupted rest, while his weakened body strove toward healing itself. Though well meaning, frequent intrusions might work toward hampering this desired effect.

"How is the boy?" Cerindur inquired unable to hold the apprehensiveness that filled his voice at bay.

If it wasn't for the serious nature of the circumstance surrounding them, Elrond would almost smile at the term, "boy", his fellow brethren had used when speaking about his youngest charge. The elf lord had recognized of late how much Aragorn had grown to despise being regarded as such especially now that he had gained the full status of adulthood in accordance with Human years. Elrond could not find it within himself to fault Cerindur for this estimation, since he, himself, at times, still perceived Aragorn as such especially now when he lay so visibly vulnerable beside him, and he spoke up to reply.

"His condition is quite serious, Cerindur."

"But, he will recover, my lord, yes?"

"I wish I could confirm that diagnosis..." Elrond began hesitantly. "...the next few days should tell us all that we wish to know. Estel's body has been severely traumatized from the wounds he's sustained, Cerindur, and as a result he has slipped into a deep slumber like state." The steward looked on in concern as the elf lord continued. "I have seen this condition before in Humans. Some, like Estel, have suffered grave injuries, yet managed to cling to life only to awaken and pull through, while still others with lesser hurts have let go upon the tenuous cord that holds them to this existence. It is difficult to say how Estel's situation will play out, but if the Numenorean blood which flows within his veins is any indication, the strong will suffusing his soul will not give up upon this life without a struggle."

Cerindur drew comfort from Elrond's final words and he answered assuredly. "Yes, as witness to that strong will, I can attest that he is a stubborn one, my lord. He will not give up!"

Elrond couldn't help but smile at his brethren's words as the remembrance of some of Aragorn's earlier indiscretions, while under Cerindur's tutelage, played back upon his memory. Oh, how the boy had succeeded, even over the efforts of his brothers, in driving his tutor to distraction. The elf lord remembered one particular instance when pitch had been alloyed with writing ink. The elf before him had been in such a state that he threatened to pack up all of his possessions and live out his remainder of his days among the wilds of Eriador until the time came for him to travel to the Grey Havens and set sail for the Undying Lands.

Cerindur smiled back hesitantly at his liege, uncertain of what it was that caused his lord's mood to suddenly lighten, but was grateful that perhaps that in some small way, he may have been responsible for effecting this change. "May I sit with him, my lord?" Cerindur inquired.

"Yes, please..." Elrond began. "That would be helpful, Cerindur. I have no wish to leave Estel unattended, but I must go and check on Legolas."

"The prince of Mirkwood is here then also?"

"Yes." Elrond acknowledged woodenly, causing Cerindur to crinkle his brow in concern again, as the elf lord's countenance grew grave once more. Elrond began filling Cerindur in on the remaining details. "It was he, who transported Estel home over long distance and through great peril, while suffering from his own physical distress. I must go to him now."

"Yes, my lord." The steward replied, stepping aside to make way for Elrond.

The elf lord was hesitant, however, momentarily turning to allow his gaze to fall back upon Aragorn. Taking his son's hand within his own, he spoke a few brief words of comfort. "I must go now and see to Legolas, Estel. Take comfort, my son, that I will be return shortly, but for now I leave you in Cerindur's care." Releasing the injured Man's hand, Elrond gently caressed Aragorn's brow, brushing aside the damp hair that fell across it, while he finished with. "Rest easy, my son."

Then turning toward the steward, he issued a brief plea. "Talk to him, Cerindur. Though his body may sleep, I believe his mind still hears that which is around him. It will comfort him to know that you are close by." With that said, Elrond departed the room, and made his way through the long passageways leading toward the guest quarters.

If the elf lord had believed the gravity of the situation, which had presented itself upon his doorstep mere hours before, had diminished in its intensity, then he was to be sorely mistaken as he entered into his guest's chambers. The sight that met him was anything but reassuring. Legolas's earlier condition had remained all, but unchanged , except for the fact that he now managed to remain upon his own feet without the benefit of Elladan's arm and shoulder for support. Instead, he used the far wall, leaning heavily against it for assistance. In the center of the room, his sons, Elladan and Elrohir, stood looking on ineffectually, the frustration, they now felt, clearly marking their countenances.

Though visibly weakening, the Silvan elf persisted in his attempts to be left alone. At first the brothers, though disheartened, conceded to his wishes and tried using words instead of actions to soothe their friend, waiting for his strength to falter, then finally give way so they could see to his injuries. But Legolas had remained steadfast in his opposition, and somehow drew strength from some unrecognized source to maintain his present footing. As time dragged on, the twins turned their backs to him to quietly argue amongst themselves on how to proceed, neither of them expecting that Legolas' continued resolve would last this long.

"This is folly, Elladan!" Elrohir began unable to brush aside the impotence he now felt over not being able to lend his support. It had been painful enough when his father had rejected his offer of assistance earlier, but now watching his friend as he wove back and forth unsteadily upon his feet as he refused similar aid, was almost unbearable. "We must do something. Each minute that passes only proves more harmful to him. He is clearly feverish and his untreated wounds are obviously the cause."

"I know, Elrohir." Elladan concluded sadly. "But to force ourselves upon him, while he is so adamantly averse to such help, might prove more damaging than good to his condition. Have you seen the wild look that fills his eyes? It worries me greatly. It is as if some frightening specter has taken hold of our friend. Does he not realize that we only mean to lend him aid?"

Elrohir looked on anxiously as his older brother continued. "And the fact that he has not spoken one word regarding Estel, since our return home bothers me. Surely, Legolas would be concerned for our brother's welfare? The condition that we found him in is testament to that fact. Our brother would not be alive now, if it weren't for his efforts."

A small cry of despair came from across the room, and drew the two elves attentions back toward the lot of their companion. While they had been in discussion, the Silvan elf had lost his precarious battle to remain upon his feet. His body betraying him once more, as he stumbled clumsily toward the stone wall, but his efforts failed him, and his body slid down its length to end up in a jumbled heap upon the floor below him. Elrohir and Elladan rushed forward to his side, but Legolas extended a hand forward to ward off their approach as he drew his other arm around himself. "No!" He ground out. "Do not touch me!"

"Legolas," Elrohir argued. "You are clearly in no condition to make such a decision. You are wounded. Your body calls out for succor. Please, my friend, let us be of some assistance to you!"

Legolas only shook his head in disagreement to the elf's heartfelt plea.

"Please Legolas!" Elladan continued. "Will you not allow us to provide you with the same comfort that you offered to our brother? It is a testament to your ability as a protector that Estel is still with us. Will you not at least allow us to do the same for you?"

Legolas blue eyes widened in misery at the mention of his friend's name, and he became more agitated. "No...no..." He continued shaking his head. "All is not how you think! You do not know what happened! You don't realize how the blame lies solely with me!"

"Blame? You speak nonsense, my friend!" Elladan continued bewilderedly. "Surely you cannot fault yourself, Legolas? None of us could have done more for Estel than you did in getting him back to father! You must surely see this, nin mellon! Please, let go of this silliness! Your body cries out for support!"

"No!" Legolas raged on. "I do not deserve it!" Go! Please leave me in peace!" He began only to falter after this last mention of peace as an eery fit of laughter replaced his earlier desperation. "Peace?" He questioned absurdly as the bubbles of uneasy emotion gave way to sobs. "I shall never know peace again . . . "

It was during these last moments that Lord Elrond entered into the room, his eyes sweeping over the activity in front of him, making contact with the quiet frustration that lined his sons' faces before reaching the fathomless despair that marked Legolas' own.

"Father!" Elladan choked as he noted his father's entrance into the room. "Legolas . . . " He began.

Elrond held up a hand to quiet to his son. "I know, Elladan . . . " The elf lord began. "Perhaps if you left us alone, he would allow me to tend to his wounds."

" But, father, we have tried . . . " Elladan continued.

"I know . . . " Elrond answered again, adopting a quiet unobtrusive manner in an effort to restore some semblance of calm and order to the situation surrounding them. "...but it seems as if Legolas' injuries are not all of a physical nature. It might be best if I alone sought to treat them."

"But, father . . . " Elladan implored again before meeting his father's steady gaze and realizing there would be no bricking of compromise in this matter, so he conceded the point and answered. "Yes."

The Eldar then turned his attentions toward his other son. Elrohir had remained quiet thus far, unable to hide the pained expression that still filled his eyes over their earlier confrontation. Elrond felt his own remorse rise over having to turn the younger twin away so harshly, but the situation at the time had the potential of becoming quite explosive, and he could not risk the fallout that might have resulted had the knowledge he had so covertly strived to conceal had been made known. The elf lord lifted his hands to gently touch the sides of his son's troubled countenance. Elrohir's features tightened, but he did not turn away from his father's soothing touch. No words were needed to be exchanged for the son to know of his father's contrition, but Elrond spoke up anyway. "I'm sorry, my son. Someday, I hope you will understand why I felt it necessary to make the decision I did."

Elrohir only nodded his acceptance of his father's apology, before he uttered another thought. "Estel?".

"I have seen to his wounds . . . " Elrond began, but both of his sons could see the hesitancy that marked their father's words and face, and they waited for him to complete his statement. "Your brother is resting. His body has fallen into a deep sleep like state which sometimes accompanies such grievous injuries. I am not sure what its outcome will be yet . . . " His voice trailed off, revealing a hint of the troubled emotions imbuing his own soul, before he continued with. "Cerindur is with him now, but you can go to him. I will see to Legolas. I am sure your presence will be beneficial toward Estel's recovery."

The twins hesitated as their eyes moved back toward their friend upon the floor, and Elrond repeated his last words. "I will see to Legolas. If I require additional help, I will send for you. Go, now! Your brother awaits your arrival." A brief hint of relief marked both Elrohir's and Elladan's faces as they heeded their father's advice and left the chamber.

Turning toward the huddled mass upon the floor, Elrond moved stealthily across the remaining distance that kept them apart, halting only briefly to retrieve the pitcher of water, basin, and cloths that one of the twins had gathered earlier. Lowering the contents within his arms to the floor below, Elrond adjusted his robes to allow himself to settle beside his fallen companion.

If the Silvan elf knew of his close proximity within the room, he did not give this fact away. Elrond set about in preparation as he wet one of the cloths in his possession before wringing out the excess moisture as he set about washing the extended arm that lay before him. A deep gash marked its flesh. Legolas flinched at the contact, but he offered up no further resistance as the elf lord continued his ministrations, slowing making his way further up the elf's scarred body until he reached his face. Elrond gently brushed aside the tangled mess of hair that concealed Legolas' features to him before applying the soothing dampness to his heated cheek, cleansing cuts and washing away the blood that marred him from his past confrontations.

Legolas' body shook all the more in confusion as the elf lord continued these compassionate ministrations until at last he spoke out. "Why? Why do you do this for me? You, who know the truth? You, who know that it was my arrow?"

Author's Notes:

White Wolf: You were right on the money with your prediction last chapter. Good work! I have to hold these comments until the end, because I don't want to give anything away. A thought that is quite tempting to me. :)

Thank you all for your continued support:) I'm debating in my mind whether there will be two or three more chapters, but I will probably have to wait until the end to really make that decision. I won't be posting the next chapter most likely for a little while, since I have a big meeting coming up that I must prepare for, but I will try to get it in as soon as I can.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.

  
  


Author's note: Thank you once again to all my readers and reviewers! The next chapter is short. Being away from story for a while made writing it a little difficult. I thought it best to let this scene stand alone. I hope you enjoy it! :) 

  
  


Relesen Chapter 9

  
  
  
  


Legolas' body shook all the more in confusion as Elrond continued his compassionate ministrations until at last the Silvan elf could no longer hold back, and he spoke out. "Why? Why do you do this for me? You who know the truth? You who know that it was my arrow?" 

  
  


The fair-haired elf pulled away, his bright eyes searching to find the reproof and the condemnation he knew most assuredly would lay within the depths of Elrond's own. He was shocked to find neither as the elf lord once again closed the distance between them and continued his efforts at healing. 

  
  


Stupefied, Legolas reached a hand out to grasp Elrond's forearm stilling his motions as he continued in anguish. "It was my arrow . . . my arrow!" 

  
  


Elrond's countenance remained unaffected by this confession, and he answered quietly "Yes, I know."

  
  


"Then why?" Legolas choked. His voice shaking and he was unable to continue on. 

  
  


Elrond's eyes darkened as he studied Legolas's torn features. He had determined hours before that the arrow within Aragorn's flesh was not orc made, but was that of his son's closest companion. He had discerned in these earliest hours that some tragedy must have befallen the pair. His inner heart knew it could be no different, and if such certainty had not filled his soul, then his mind would have reached to same conclusion the moment he had set eyes upon Legolas' bedraggled form as he stood outside Aragorn's sickroom leaning heavily upon Elladan's arm for support. There had been no malicious intent in what had happened between the two. Though in his being he knew this, Elrond's mind could not get past nature's tendency to question the events that had taken place. Using the much garnered restraint he had attained during the many of years of his existence, he shelved these thoughts for now and answered succinctly. "You are injured, Legolas, and you are in need my care."

  
  


"But it was I . . . " The Silvan elf answered. His voice breaking as he finished up with. "If he should die . . . "

  
  


Elrond tried not to blanch at Legolas' words, doing his best to school his features. Aragorn's condition was perilous at best, and what Legolas had voiced might still come to pass. The elf lord's reaction did not go unnoticed by the distraught elf, and he spoke up again. "Aragorn? Is he? ..."

  
  


Elrond hesitated, but realized he could not keep the truth from Legolas. "I was able to remove the arrow, but his condition is grave."

  
  


Upon hearing his words, the Mirkwood elf backed away from him. "Then everything was for naught and it is I who must bear the fault for this." As Elrond moved toward him in protest, Legolas lifted his hand forward to ward off his progress. "No! No! Please do not touch me! Don't you see that it is I who should bear the reproof of these actions? If I hadn't acted so hastily . . . If I hadn't behaved so stupidly . . . "

  
  


"I do not hold you responsible, Legolas!" Elrond interrupted, but the elf lord's proclamation went unheard, doing nothing to hinder the self recrimination that Legolas heaped upon himself. Elrond looked on mournfully as the elf before him drew back into himself, shutting himself off from all that surrounded him, while allowing remorse and regret to take an even deeper hold upon his heart. Elrond finally fathomed the extent of Legolas' injuries, and it alarmed him greatly. Physically with proper care and a few days' rest, the Silvan elf would make a full recovery and be back upon his feet, but emotionally the wounds Legolas had sustained might prove to be the most lethal of all, and there was little he could do to aid him. His talents lay in healing the body, whereas the spirit that flourished within was of a completely different nature. A whole body would do Legolas little good if he were to let go of his spirit. For though the two were not bound to each other, without the spirit the body would soon dissipate.

  
  


Elrond felt powerless to help as he looked on at Legolas shrinking form. There was no such healing salve among his compilations of herbs and remedies that could offer such a cure. He had been privy to this information before through great personal tragedy of his own. For the power to heal such wounds lay only within the sufferer themselves otherwise regret would just eat away at their soul. The depths of pain felt could not start to be unfurled until the bearer of such burdens was ready to share them. As Elrond looked on, he prayed that this time would come soon for Legolas before it was too late.

  
  
  
  


Author's note: Thank you once again for all your kind words and suggestions! They are greatly appreciated. Before, I stated that I thought I could conclude this in about 2 to 3 more chapters. Now, I'm not so sure. There shouldn't be too many more, but I can't give a specific number. I guess fan fiction and WIP's in particular are like that. Sorry! 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  



	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.

  
  


Author's Note: Thank you once again to all my readers and reviewers! I really appreciate your taking the time to let me know what you think of my story. I hope you enjoy this next chapter! :)

  
  


Relesen-Chapter 10

  
  
  
  


The tranquil atmosphere that presided over Rivendell had been replaced these last few days by a hovering air of melancholy. Three dawns had passed since Legolas and Aragorn had been returned to the elven realm, and a fourth was now attempting to break the hold of the shadowy cloak of darkness that blanketed the landscape, but little improvement marked either the elf's or human's condition. Aragorn was still too ill to be moved, so the sitting room to which he had first been brought now doubled for a hall of healing. Whereas Legolas lay many corridors away in the suite, he occupied when visiting the kingdom. An unspoken agreement had been forged between Lord Elrond and his sons that neither man nor elf was to be left unattended for any length of time, and during those brief intervals when the need for a short respite from their duties as caretakers could not be neglected these responsibilities were assumed by the immediate members of the household staff.

  
  


Elrond rose from the chair he had occupied this past night beside his son's sick bed to move forward toward the window and greet these first contemporaneous rays of sunlight now filtering through the casement. Though dusky shadows still enveloped much of the surrounding area, these few waking beams offered the promise of new light and life as they streamed forth to illuminate more and more of the darkened vista before him. 'If only this promise of brightness could revive those in need as well as they restore the terrain about them.' The elf lord mused wistfully before turning his attentions back toward his son. The seemingly ageless face of the Lord of Rivendell was etched with lines of sorrow as he drew closer to Aragorn. Through the eons he had spent on Middle-earth, Elrond had known what it was like to wait while circumstances decided to reveal themselves, but never had a time been more trying than now as he waited for the fate of the Man before him to be determined, save only for the time of travail of his own dear Celebrian.

  
  


It troubled the elf lord that he could not be more absolute in his prognosis for his son. Its continued uncertainty haunted him as he acknowledged the fact that this current mishap might prove to be the Man's final undoing. He had held such great hopes for the human son he had fostered. Elrond believed that Aragorn would one day prove to be a reckoning force in deciding the future fate of Middle-earth, but now as his eyes swept over the ailing form in front of him, the elf lord wondered if he had been wrong in making such an assumption.

  
  


Picking up one of Aragorn's limp hands within his own, he gave it a firm squeeze as if attempting to infuse some of his own strength into the wounded Human, while silently entreating for a similar response back from the Man. Receiving none, Elrond continued onward to briskly rub the lifeless forearm above it hoping that such contact might awaken the spirit laying beneath, but Aragorn remained oblivious to his father's ministrations. It pained Elrond to note the slight atrophy of muscle tone that had already begun to set in during these few short days of inactivity. The listless figure before him was so contrary to that of the vibrant young Man he knew, and the elf lord could hold back his frustration no longer. 

  
  


"This is not you, Estel. Do not allow this to become my last image of the spirited son I have loved so well. I beseech you, my son, to search for that source of strength, which still dwells within you and demand it to awaken. You have slumbered long enough, my boy."

  
  


The voice that responded to his quiet entreaty was not the one he longed for in answer. The muted, "Father?" he received drew his attentions momentarily away from injured Man as the elf lord turned toward the voice to discover Elladan had entered the room unbeknownst to him. 

  
  


"Yes, Elladan?" His father answered softly while moving his hand back down to clasp Aragorn's once again.

  
  


"Has there been any change?" The elder twin asked.

  
  


In response to his son's inquiry, Elrond turned Aragorn's hand palm up and allowed his seeking fingers to rest upon the Man's wrist.

  
  


Elladan waited expectantly for his father to make some sort of pronouncement as Elrond gently laid his youngest son's arm back upon the coverlet before moving his own hand upward to rest upon Aragorn's brow. An unnatural heat still clung to his son's flesh, but it had diminshed in its intensity, which the elf lord acknowledged might prove to be a favorable sign. Turning once again toward his eldest son, he answered. "The fever, which consumes his body, has lessened, but the pulse of life running through his veins still rushes forth too rapidly. That is only understandable considering the amount of blood he has lost. Hopefully with time, it will decrease as well as his body tries to compensate for its loss." 

  
  


"But has he shown any sign of awakening?" Elladan appealed. 

  
  


"No, my son." Elrond concluded wearily, "But we must not give up hope." The elf lord replied while noting the look of defeat that now clouded the elder twin's eyes. 

  
  


"Such sentiments seem useless, Father!" Elladan railed in unchecked emotion. "I cannot stand this waiting! To just sit by and do nothing, while those I hold dearest to me are lost! For you know that is what's to happen!"

"I know nothing of the sort! . . . " The elf lord countered forcefully. "And it grieves me that one of my own blood would give up hope so easily!"

Shame replaced the previous anger that flamed within the younger elf's eyes and he bowed his head in reaction to it. "I have not given up . . . " Elladan began remorsefully, his voice trembling with his response. "...it is just not easy to live with such uncertainty."

Elrond moved forward toward his eldest now regretting his own harsh words. Collecting his son into the circle of his arms, his answer was laced with his own regret. "Let us not add to the burdens upon us, Elladan, by arguing. This should not be a time of distance between us. We are hurting too, but we cannot allow that to hinder the strength we must maintain for those who are in need of our care. We must rally, my son . . . " The elf lord continued while trying to muster the semblance of a smile to lend support to his words. "... even if what awaits us might prove to be painful." 

"Pain, I could handle . . . " the younger elf responded. "...if it were that of a physical nature and abled to be assuaged or even it were to ultimately overwhelm me. But, it is this pain that radiates from within, from the heart outward, Father, that I find most disturbing for I can find no relief from it."

"Aye." Elrond agreed with deep commiseration. "Many have come up empty in their attempts to find remedy for such distress, but it is hope, Elladan, that gives us the strength needed to make it through. Hope that our troubles will find answer or the hope if this does not prove to be the case that we will be able to abide with the decision rendered. With strength proving to be even more of a necessity if the course should prove to fall with the latter. It is not ours to decide what is to be, Elladan, but it is within us to choose how we shall respond it."

"I know, Father. Forgive me!" Elladan answered sadly. "I will try not to give up so easily however disheartened I may become, but it is so difficult to watch Estel lying there so still while the threat of death hovers over him. What is even more frustrating, however, is to bear witness to Legolas' steady decline for his body has not suffered the same devastation as that of my brother's. How can one make sense of his present infirmity especially amongst all this talk of giving up? A part of me, Father, wants to take him in my arms and rattle him, shake him so hard until some sense returns to the befuddled musings going on inside his head! How is one to bear the possible loss of them both?" Elladan finished while he allowed himself to collapse into the strength and the comfort of his father's embrace.

"My son, . . . " Elrond began while moving a hand upward to soothe his offspring. "...what you have claimed is difficult at best, but you haven't yet the knowledge of all that has taken place. Now is not the time, Elladan, to sift through the details, but trust in me that one day you will understand what might now seem so incomprehensible to you."

"I will try, Father." Elladan answered with a weak attempt at a smile for confirmation.

"Perhaps I have stayed too long with Estel . . . " The elf lord concluded as guilt began to grow within him for allowing the greater share of Legolas' present burden to fall upon his sons. "Is Elrohir with Legolas now?"

"Yes, father. It seems that my brother has more of a stomach than I for keeping vigil beside the beds of healing." 

  
  


A sincere smile graced the elf lord's features as he thought about his two natural sons. Though identical in looks, they were quite different in temperament each claiming their own unique strengths that only served to compliment those of the other. "Then I should go to him." Elrond answered. He did not bother asking his eldest to stay with Aragorn, for he knew the utterance of such a request would prove quite unnecessary. He looked on as Elladan moved toward his brother. The Human would never be in want for company the elf lord acknowledged as he turned toward the doorway, though his keen ears picked up on Elladan's opening salutation.

"What's this, Estel? Still, asleep? The time has passed, young one, for playing opossum. Really, Estel, I tire of such games and am bored! I cannot wait forever for you to awaken and I dare say I will not tarry much longer before I am forced to leave you behind for Elrohir and I make ready the preparations for a long quest into the woods . . . "

  
  


Passing through the corridors on his way to Legolas' room, Elrond tried to strengthen his resolve. Perhaps he had been too neglectful with concern to the prince of Mirkwood's stead? He had backed away from brooking a confrontation earlier, the day he had first attended to the fair-haired elf's wounds. He had believed it enough at the time to treat that which was physical, leaving the inner conflict still brewing within the younger elf alone until a later time when Legolas was ready to speak. Four dawns had now passed, and the Silvan archer had yet to put voice to his inner turmoil instead he only acted to draw further and further away from those, who surrounded him. Time and care had not been enough for Legolas, Elrond concluded and the elf lord decided that the time had come for him to push the point.

Reaching the doorway to the chamber that housed Legolas, Elrond peered inside it. Its interior was still darkened, but amongst the shadows he recognized the figure of his second son, Elrohir, sitting closely beside the bed. Legolas's still form lay atop of it with the bed's heavy coverings drawn up around him. Elrond's breath stilled within him as he took in the sight of the Silvan elf. What he saw only proved his earlier estimation that he had indeed been too lax with his methods. It grieved him to see this mere shell of an elf, who had once stood strong and proud. The once beautiful being now lacked vitality in much the same way as a calla lily that had long lingered past its first days of bloom.

As Elrond entered into the room, Elrohir turned his attentions away from the bed. "Father." He greeted soberly.

His own son's solemn appearance furthered the rush of guilt that coursed through him. For it seemed that the cares of the world had fallen upon the younger twin's shoulders. "Elrohir." His father answered.

"Why have you come?" Elrohir inquired, unable to disguise the tremor of fear underlying his words. "Has something happened to Estel?" He asked.

"No, my son." Elrond confirmed putting his fears to rest. "Your brother is much the same, though there has been some improvement with his fever."

"Then he still lives." Elrohir finished with an outward rush of relief.

"Yes, and he will continue to do so, if I have any say in the matter. Now come, Elrohir, let me relieve you. I have allowed the burden of what's taken place to fall too heavily upon you."

"Not any greater than you've allowed it to weigh upon yourself, Father."

"Yes, but the responsibility should be mine." The elf lord concluded.

"And how is that Father? How much of that responsibility are you willing to shoulder until you, yourself, should break under its weight? For even you, the Lord of Rivendell, will falter if the burden proves too heavy to bear!"

Elrond cast a wary eye upon his son, confused by the words the younger elf now uttered. He then became aware of the brooding awareness that lay within the gray depths staring back at him suddenly taking note of what he had not witnessed there before. "What is it, Elrohir?" He asked. 

"How long were you planning to go on with this silence, Father, knowing what you do? Yes, I must claim that at first I did not realize the complete extent of the burden you now carry, but over these last few days I have weighed the evidence before me, Estel's condition, Legolas' behavior and that of your own especially on that first night when you ordered me out of Estel's sickroom. I have long since surmised that the prior two are related and your own role in it only served to confirm this belief to me, though I have kept such assumptions to myself. Am I right in concluding that it is by some action of Legolas' that my youngest brother lies so very close to death?" 

"I have never plotted to keep such information from you, Elrohir, of this you can be sure! " Elrond retorted. "Though my initial actions might point otherwise. It grieves me that you may believe I could be capable of such duplicity, so let me state my reasons for silence. At the time when the knowledge that it was Legolas' arrow within your brother's body became known to me, I had little time to reason its consequence. I held the fate of your brother's life within my hands and allowing such knowledge to become recognized seemed fruitless. I was not in the position to deal with the fallout that might have resulted if it had and needed to keep my sole attentions focused upon healing the body of my son."

  
  


"Father!" Elrohir interrupted. " If we are stating grievances, then allow me to make mine known as well. At the time when such news had first become identified, you felt it best to keep it under wraps, but many long days have since passed, and still you feel the necessity to conceal the truth! Do you not trust me, father? Do you not believe that I would be able to bear such ill tidings without adverse effect? For I know it within myself that though the arrow may have belonged to Legolas, he would never do harm to my brother intentionally! It hurts me, Father, that you could believe otherwise of me!" Elrohir finished while drawing a long staggering breath.

  
  


Pain alighted in Elrond's eyes over the plight of his son. He had never meant to hurt him, but through his inaction he had. He had every intention of letting both of his sons know the consequences surrounding the tragic accident that had taken place, but he himself was still in the dark over much of its content. Turning his eyes toward the elf settled upon the bed, he acknowledged sadly that only Legolas could tell them what truly had happened that day in the wild, and it worried him that with the elf's current state they might never find out. 

  
  


"Elrohir, you must trust that I have the utmost faith in you. It gladdens my heart that you would believe the same of your friend as I do. Legolas would not hurt Aragorn no matter what duress he may have been placed under that I am sure of, but I am as in the dark as you, my son, as to what really happened out there. I must lay the blame on that fact as the reason for my continued silence. I felt it best to let the matter stand as it was, until I, myself, had a better understanding of the situation."

  
  


Elrond noted the trembling of emotion that played upon Elrohir's countenance. "Father . . . " He started.

  
  


"No, my son. Let me apologize for my deceit though it was never my intent to cause such ill." 

  
  


"Father . . . " Elrohir began again this time rushing forward to throw his arms around the elder being. "Forgive me for my hurtful words . . . "

  
  


"No, Elrohir. Do not let them trouble you!" Elrond responded while gathering a second twin within his embrace. "No offense has been taken. Stressful times sometimes result in stressful measures." 

  
  


The younger elf remained within his father's arms, as Elrond spoke up again."Do not take this as a dismissal, Elrohir, but I need to speak to Legolas, and I believe it would be best to do so alone. Elladan does not know yet of Legolas' part in your brother's condition, so I ask that you trust me in my decision by keeping this knowledge private until I can come up with some more answers."

  
  


"Yes, Father."

  
  
  
  


Elrond drew Elrohir more firmly into his grasp, though his eyes stole across the room to rest upon Legolas, and the elf lord prayed that somehow he would be able to break through this emotional barrier of protection that the Silvan elf had erected around himself.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.

  
  
  
  


Author's Note: Thank you once again to all my readers and reviewers! Your kind support of my efforts is greatly appreciated! Please note in this next chapter that single quotation marks will note the thoughts of the characters and that the double quotation marks will note their dialogue. I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

  
  


Relesen Chapter 11

  
  
  
  


The warmth of Elrohir's final embrace still clung to his robes as Lord Elrond moved away from the door and back into the room that lodged Legolas. The elf lord's eyes adjusted once again to the dimness of the chamber as they scanned the distance to the large bed, which held the Silvan elf. The fair-haired immortal's body was propped up against a large mound of pillows and though his eyes were open, his steady draw of breath led Elrond to conclude that he was still asleep. Elrond regretted this fact as he drew closer to the chair that Elrohir had previously occupied. He wished the elf had been awake during his conversation with Elrohir, and had been a witness to the fact that neither father nor son held him accountable for Aragorn's present state. Grasping the back of the chair tightly with his palm, Elrond considered all that he needed to communicate to Legolas, and prayed he could make the Mirkwood elf see how misconstrued the beliefs he held really were. 

  
  


'Not a small task.' The elf lord assessed as his brow wrinkled in reaction to this thought. His gaze moved hesitantly toward the heavy, damask draperies that covered the window of the bed chamber and a small frown formed upon his face. 'Well, it would be a start.' Elrond acknowledged as he moved toward the elaborate fabric that barred any light from entering in. Taking the heavy hanging into his hand, he immediately drew it aside allowing a flood of light to enter the previously darkened room. His eyes traveled back toward the bed now bathed in a bright glow and noted Legolas's almost imperceptible reaction to it. 'So, he does not sleep.' Elrond realized. 'He is not the first to attempt such a simple ploy, though the others have not been as successful in their endeavors. All that was spoken before then did not go unheeded,' The elf lord noted. ' and it will be one less detail that I'll need to reinforce at this present time.'

  
  


"Good morning, Legolas." Elrond called forth as he walked back toward the chair beside the bed. His salutation remained unanswered, but the elf lord did not allow this fact to dissuade him as he began to settle into the luxury that the now empty seat had to offer him before deciding against it. Gaining his feet once more, he turned and approached the bed containing the elf. 'Now is not the time to provide him with the comfort of distance.' Elrond ascertained, as he perched himself upon the edge of the bed, while he continued his examination of the recovering elf upon it in.

  
  


Elrond's patience was growing thin. Aragorn's mind might be unreachable to him, but he'd be damned if he would accept the same of Legolas' and reaching a hand out, he clasped one of the Silvan elf's own within his own feeling the immortal being flinch as the two made contact. 'Good.' The elf lord gauged as he allowed his fingers to wrap more firmly about the younger elf's hand. 'He has not drawn so far away yet that a simple touch can go unnoticed. There is still some hope.' 

  
  


Elrond, however, hesitated to continue in speech taking many long minutes to study the defeated elf's battered features. Though touch still drew a response from the fair-haired archer, reaching the elf's inner soul would prove a more difficult task. He could not act with haste, but instead must choose his course wisely. 

  
  


Settling himself more surely upon the bed below him, the elder elf drew Legolas' hand toward himself before encircling it within the grasp of his other as well and spoke. "Do not shun my presence, Legolas, but allow the spirit that dwells within you to act toward me in the same manner as that of your flesh, which I hold within my hands. It acknowledges the need for contact and comfort. You have allowed yourself to drift away from those who care about you, my friend. It is now time for you to return." 

  
  


Elrond's gray eyes focused upon Legolas' vacant blue ones. The Silvan elf made no response to the elder being's words, but the elf lord could discern the hint of the light still dwelling within their depths. It had been weighted down by grief and despair, but it still beckoned outward for contact spurring the elf lord on. "You have struggled long enough with this yoke of guilt, Legolas. It is time to release yourself from its grip, for you do him a great disservice by allowing it to take such a firm hold upon you. Do you believe this is what he'd want from you? Would you ask the same of him, if your roles had been reversed? I think not." Elrond answered his own question gravely. 

  
  


"Then why do you banish yourself? Why have you allowed yourself to slip into this self-imposed exile? Now, when your presence to him could prove most beneficial? What if he were to awaken to find you gone from this world? Would it not haunt him? Do you seek to add another such heavy burden upon his already unsteady shoulders?" Elrond continued. 

  
  


"What is it that you fear, Legolas? His possible death or his reaction to the knowledge that it was your arrow that injured him? Do you not trust him with this knowledge? Do you know him so little as to doubt his fairness of mind? Surely, you are no coward, Legolas? Do not allow me to bear witness to such a transformation within you now! " Elrond appealed. 

  
  


"For you cannot hide from your pain, Legolas. It is an inevitable aspect to all our existence, especially among the race of Men, though our immortal brethren are not immune to its sting. For to love, is to risk, and to risk is to chance pain. We cannot control whatever fate lies before us, but we can decide the merit of what we choose to put forth. For it is within us to do so selflessly, and is it not worth all the risk if what results from it proves to be the priceless gifts of friendship and love?" Elrond concluded. 

  
  


"Do not lose hope, Legolas, nor make such a decision for him by letting go! But go to him! Seek him out! For I believe it is for you that he now waits! "

  
  


Elrond paused for many long moments seeking a reaction from the elf before him, but his efforts remained unrewarded, while many thoughts still sped adrift through his mind. 'I have done all I can for Legolas, besides laying hands upon him and physically dragging him into Aragorn's room. Such action would prove fruitless though, for he must find it within himself to respond if there is to be any hope of his healing. I cannot undo the ghosts that continue to haunt him with coercion. He is cognizant of the fact that none hold him accountable for what has befallen Aragorn, though such knowledge will do him little good if he does not accept the same of himself.'

  
  


Frustration continued to mount within the elf lord as he went on with this deliberation. 'I can press this issue no further without fear that he may withdraw all the more. I have planted the seed and now must wait to see if it takes root.' Sighing heavily, Elrond placed Legolas' hand quietly back upon the quilt that covered him and made to stand. Looking back down upon the sad creature, he issued one last appeal. "Go to him, Legolas!" With that said, Elrond quit the room seeking out no one to reclaim his position within it feeling it best to leave the Silvan elf alone now to consider the words left to him. 

  
  


********************************************************************************

The fading light of late day was drawing to a close upon the realm of Imaldris as a steady hum of words was issued forth from the room that held its Lord's youngest son. Beside the injured man's bed sat his long time tutor. His voice droned on as he read from the pages of the large book upon his lap, while the Human beside him lay quiet and still. 

  
  


Reaching the end of particularly long passage, Cerindur took a break to reach a hand up and rub the crick beginning to settle in his neck from the extended posture he had assumed while bent over the massive volume below him. Massaging the tired muscles, the steward looked toward the Man beside him and replied. "You may be a captive audience, Estel, but even I tire and grow bored with The Histories of Minhiriath. Shall we continue with them tomorrow? " The elder being smiled.

  
  


Lord Elrond had stated to to the steward on the first day of Estel's return that it was beneficial for the injured man to be surrounded by those, who cared about him and to hear their voices. He tried to do his part by providing the family with relief, so they could take a break from his sick bed. During his times with Estel, he read to him from the various volumes of histories they had covered during his education as a youth. The immortal being could not help but feel a twinge of remorse now for all the past times when he had voiced his displeasure with the young boy's over exuberance. As the Eldar made to stand, he stared back at the inert figure upon the bed and wished that the youth before him might wake up presently and show some of that same irrepressible spirit.

  
  


"Until tomorrow then, my boy. I will go now and fetch . . . " Cerinder began, but halted the flow of his words as a noise from behind him acted toward drawing his attentions away. Turning to find out its cause, the raven-haired elf was stunned by his discovery. For there before him stood the prince of Mirkwood, though his appearance bore little resemblance to the tidy figure he usually kept. The steward like many of the inhabitants who dwelled with the walls of the elven realm had heard news of how the Silvan elf had battled through great adversity and his own personal injuries to return Lord Elrond's youngest son back to his home. Though no official word had been issued forth, the residents of Rivendell knew it would only be a matter of time, barring any complications in Estel's recovery, before a great celebration would be held in the Hall of Fire to honor the elf for his actions and to celebrate the recovery of their own beloved mortal.

  
  


"Prince Legolas . . . " Cerindur uttered, while he watched the still recovering elf reach toward the near wall as if to steady himself. Worriedly the steward continued on. "... it is good to see you. A great many of us have been concerned with your stead. I am happy to see that your recovery seems to be progressing quite satisfactory." The elf finished though the concern within his eyes belied the truth behind his words. The steward had noted the Silvan elf's conspicuous absence from Estel's sickroom these past days, and now he realized the likely reason behind it. Though conscious, the fair-haired archer appeared little better off than the Man that lay behind him upon the bed. 

  
  


Legolas looked past the steward taking no notice of the words he now spoke, as his eyes traveled forward to make contact with Aragorn. Cerindur took no note of his apparent brush off and continued on, recognizing Legolas' obvious concern. "Yes, Estel still sleeps." Cerindur acknowledged. " Though I must say he is gaining more color and his breathing has eased somewhat."

  
  


Legolas looked on grimly, but made no reply to Cerindur's words as he moved stiffly forward toward the bed. Cerindur noted the increased pallor that marked the Mirkwood's elf's features with every movement he made and could only guess the extent of the protestation the injured archer's limbs must be offering up with each small motion. 'He'd be little match now if a strong wind rose up.' The steward realized, though he did not put voice to such thoughts. Instead he made way, presenting the chair that only moments before he had filled to the recovering elf. Legolas made no sound, but sunk into its comfort, before leaning forward when his strength allowed to let his eyes rest once again upon the vision of his friend.

  
  


"I shall go then . . . " Cerindur began indecisively as he stared back at the two figures. "...now that you are here to stay with him." The Eldar made no mention of his previous plan to seek out the young man's father or brothers to oversee his care and finished with. "My lord claims that we should speak to him. He stated that the voices around him will help to draw Estel out of his slumber and work toward bringing him back to us." Then with a curt nod of farewell, Cerindur nervously departed the room leaving elf and man alone. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.

  
  
  
  


Author's Note: A big thank you to all my readers and reviewers! Your kind words and suggestions go a great way toward helping me write this story. As with last chapter, single quotation marks note a character's thoughts, whereas the double quotation marks note actual dialogue. I hope you enjoy this next chapter! :)

  
  


Relesen-Chapter 12

  
  
  
  
  
  


Leaning heavily upon the chair that held him, the haggard elf suddenly found himself alone with his friend after many drawn out days of separation. Earlier, Legolas had spent long hours in his own chamber as his mind poured over the words Lord Elrond had left to him, until finally he permitted himself to make the only decision he knew he could abide with. His painstaking deliberation over whether to persist in this anaesthetized state or be dragged back into the world of feeling and pain had been onerous, but Legolas ultimately elected to heed the elf lord's advice. Reaching such a conclusion had been harrowing enough to his careworn body and tattered spirit, but the actual navigation of the long passageways that separated himself from Aragorn, which therefore followed, had proven downright formidable to the elf. Now that his destination had been reached and he was left staring at the motionless body of his friend, Legolas became dubious of the opinions Lord Elrond had espoused. 'After what I have done, the pain I have caused him, how could Aragorn be eager for my company? The Silvan elf fretted.

  
  


Fitfully the elf's gaze shifted back and forth between his friend and the chair he now sat in. His long finger traced an uneasy path across the fabric of its upholstery. 'Why have I come?' Legolas questioned delving deep into the inner recesses of his tormented mind. Witnessing his friend so still and lifeless again only acted like a dagger drawn forth to further cut at his already bleeding heart, and he fought hard against the urge to rise up and leave. His fingers stilled their previous restless motion as his hands reacted expeditiously to grip the arms of the chair in an attempt to halt this building desire to flee. ' No, I cannot do this!' He railed silently. ' It is too much to bear seeing him reduced to such a state! Lord Elrond was wrong! He does not wait for me! He cannot!' Legolas disputed in agony. 'I must go! I cannot stay here!' 

  
  


Rocking forward, Legolas attempted to rise as his eyes locked once again upon his friend. The prick of tears started to burn behind them as his heart hammered deep within the walls of his chest and his throat tightened painfully. "No, you cannot leave him!" The elf grounded out. The cords of his throat pulled painfully in protest against his effort to speak struggling with many long days of disuse and leaving his once melodious voice to come out sounding gruff. "It is the least you owe to him!" He conceded with defeat.

  
  
  
  


Settling nervously back down upon the chair, Legolas tried to find some measure of comfort, though none was attainable. Leaning forward he allowed his head to rest upon his hands, and his index fingers drummed a nervous tatoo against his flesh, while the anxiousness brewing in the pit of his stomach continued to build. Fretfully his eyes traveled back toward his injured friend, but the sight proved too much once more, and Legolas dropped his face forward into his awaiting hands as if to shield himself from the violence of this vision. 'You must get a hold of yourself!' He challenged, while removing the impermanent flesh and blood safeguard away from his line of sight. He then drew the anxious hands toward his weary brow before burying them roughly into the still unkempt hair above it. His shaking fingers caught then tore against the tangles that remained until the elf in all frustration forcefully jerked them free, pulling loose some of the golden tendrils in the process. He took no notice of the pain this action caused him as his eyes stared vacantly down at severed strands still wrapped around his trembling digits. Instead, he shook his head, while allowing the seemingly useless appendages to drop toward his lap once again, as he attempted to speak through his present indecision. "I never meant for this to happen!" Legolas rasped. "You must believe that, Estel! If I hadn't acted so foolishly . . . behaved so rashly . . . " The elf began as his eyes fell to the bandaged laden torso of his friend. Immediately, all of his prior thoughts were curtailed, as the remembrance of his arrow striking the flesh of his friend flashed across his mind. The elf winced in painful reaction to it before he exclaimed in futility. "How ironic is this, Estel, that the very object that begot this tragedy would be one and the same that acted toward drawing us closer together? ..." 

  
  
  
  


"How could I have acted so imprudently . . . " Legolas went on to lament, "to have forgotten one of the most important precepts that I drilled into you during that season of training? To not let fear or anger cloud your judgement, but to remain dispassionate, never allowing emotion to rule the moment. For to do so could ultimately cost one's shot to fly errant!" A deep shudder coursed through the elf as his face contorted with the agony of this acknowledgment. For during those moments when he had let loose that volley of arrows into the crowd of orcs surrounding Aragorn, he had reacted like a green novice instead of the skillful archer he should have been. "How could I have allowed it to happen?" The elf demanded roughly toward himself. "I, who was master? ..." And though he struggled against the force of its pull, his weary mind could not offer up defense against the resurgence of another memory that accompanied the first.

  
  


The remembrance originated from the time following Aragorn and Elladan's unfortunate incident in the wilderness when they were set upon by ravenous wolves. Aragorn, who had been injured as a result, had been incapacitated for many weeks afterward with a broken arm. That did not discourage the youth's enthusiasm, however, when the elf, while trying to make amends for his brusque behavior toward him, promised to help the young Human become more adept with a bow. 

  
  


The eight-year-old Aragorn had proven to be a relentless pupil, Legolas remembered. The elf would never forget the subsequent days that followed the removal of the child's bindings when the young Human persisted to pursue him to exact a date and time for their first lesson. Wearying of the boy's constant pleas, the elf ultimately agreed to begin his instruction on the following day. The Silvan archer would never forget nor forgive the rude awakening that was to follow as the enthusiastic child showed up in his room at the crack of dawn the very next morn. Too disgruntled by this unexpected and unwelcome turn of events, the elf found it hard to quell the rising temper that grew within him, but what proceeded to make the situation even worse was the unfazed child's next action as he had reached eagerly forward to clasp the elf's own-prized bow. Legolas could not quiet the acrid words that had sprung to his lips this time as a result, and he angrily bit out. "Release my bow, Estel! I allow none to touch it, let alone use it!" The boy shrunk away from the bow as if dealt a physical blow by the abrasive words uttered, and he eyed the Silvan elf warily hedging between the advisability of whether to flee the room or remain. Legolas felt a sudden stab of guilt cut through himself, and tried to soften his countenance while gauging the child's reaction to it. Now many years later as he looked back upon these first moments they had spent together as master and pupil, he could not help but wonder if his original conduct toward the Dunadan in the weeks that followed had not been tempered by this initial confrontation.

  
  


The hint of a nearly forgotten smile aspired to tug at the corner of Legolas lips as he remained lost in this recollection of the young Aragorn's displeasure over the turn of events that followed. For the content of the lessons had not proceeded as the young boy had envisioned. No, many long days were to pass before Aragorn was to feel the true weight of a bow within his small hands. In fact looking back now upon the situation, Legolas could not help but wonder how many times the youth seemed ready to give up upon the archer and his unusual training tactics.

  
  


Though acting as teacher toward the young Human, it had been a time of learning for Legolas, himself, as he gained invaluable insight and familiarity with a member of a once previously enigmatic race. He found during his training sessions with the boy that he needed to make allowances for their differences in physique and endurance. Not only did Aragorn, being an adan, have many factors working against him, but there was also the liability of his previously injured arm. The elf acknowledged the need to restore the child's appendage back to its previous strength before they could continue on further with their lessons, so he began by preparing the Human through various exercises he came up with during their treks together out into the woodlands immediately surrounding the elven realm. He sought to improve upon the flexibility of the child's feet, ankles, knees and hips, since it was essential for all flights to begin atop a firm and well-constructed foundation as well as seeking to strengthen his shoulders, back and arms. The boy seemed to enjoy what he perceived as the little games the elf designed for him, though they did little toward whetting his appetite in becoming a true archer. What the child did rebel against were the exercises he viewed as inane such as the repeated practice of clinching his hands into fists through buckets of sand not appreciating its merit toward strengthening his fingers. Aragorn also grew easily bored with what he viewed as the elf's endless preoccupation toward the gear they were to use. He became restless during the long discourses the elf made over spine weights matching draw weights and the obstacles of being over bowed, though he did take great interest as the two worked together to fashion the arrows they were to use. Perhaps what truly baffled Aragorn the most, however, was when the elf finally saw fit to allow the boy to let loose a few their precious stock, while requiring the youth to visualize the path each arrow would take. 

  
  


"They will fly straight toward whatever target your aiming at." The young child answered. 

  
  


"So you would think." Legolas countered as he directed the boy to take stand against the trunk of a nearby tree completely out of the range into which he was about to fire. Then the archer commanded, "Watch!" while he nocked his arrow, then drew it back tautly upon his bow string before letting it sail into the air in front of him. Aragorn's eyes kept steady with the path of its flight as he listened to Legolas' observations. "See young one? It does not follow a straight path, but flows forth at a curve, first being thrust upward outside the ballistic line, then next moving back inside it, until it finally succumbs to the gravity atop and drops toward the earth. You must envision its entire path from the moment it leaves your bow all the way to where it would have landed on the ground way down range had not your target been in its way. Many factors will influence its flight." The elf continued, while signaling to the area surrounding them. "The air, the atmosphere, whether there's wind or rain, . . . " He ceased speaking to tap lightly upon his chest in emphasis and finished with. " as well as what is going on inside; the pumping of the heart, the rising and falling of breath, the tension of muscles, and the focusing of eyes. You must take into consideration all these variables when attempting your shot."

In awe of all that Legolas had just imparted, Aragorn shook his head in acknowledgment, and the elf saw fit to convey some final words of advice. "And never allow fear nor anger to cloud your judgement, but remain dispassionate, for the former two will act to release more adrenaline into your body and might hinder the accuracy of your aim." 

  
  


Then walking toward the boy, Legolas allowed his hand to fall upon his thin shoulder giving it a light squeeze. The Silvan elf was unable to contain the ebullience building within himself as his eyes made contact with those of the boy's and he concluded with. "These should be the tools of your commitment, Estel. They must be very real to you on all levels, emotionally, physically and spiritually or to practice this art will just be a waste of time and energy." 

  
  


Aragorn only nodded wordlessly again as a wide smile spread across the fair-haired elf's features stirring the glow of satisfaction to spread throughout the young child's body and soul as the boy finally felt the advent of acceptance from the elf.

  
  


"Shall we begin then?" The elf answered, while reaching down to grasp the small bow the child had deposited upon the ground beside himself as he had waited and watched the archer. 

  
  


"Yes!" The child piped in enthusiastically.

  
  


A true smile now touched the present day archer's face as he remained with these thoughts, though his countenance was to grow more pensive as they continued. 

  
  


The contentment found in those earlier moments was not to last, for finally the day arrived to put to test all the skills he had instructed the young boy in. Weeks later, leaving at the break of dawn, Legolas took Aragorn out into the woods on his first true hunt. The boy's stance was marked with pride as he ambled alongside the much taller archer, while they made their way through the thicket. Excitement churned within his young body and though this emotion did not set well with all Legolas had taught him, it was impossible for him to quell it completely. 

  
  


Hours later when he stood in wait beside Legolas, his mind went over all the lessons he had been taught, but when the final moment came as the game they pursued drew within their sights his lack of experience led to hesitation and he did not immediately comply with Legolas' signal to shoot. Instead he delayed a few short seconds, all the time needed to burden his shot. His bungled attempt was not totally off target striking the buck's rear left flank, but it lacked the potential of a much sought after death blow. A second clean shot immediately followed originating a few feet to his right and acted toward taking the animal down.

  
  


As Aragorn turned his eyes to meet those of his companion's, he could not help but suppose a hint of disappointment to be dwelling within their deep azure depths. Moving his eyes toward the ground, the boy's own self-derision could not help, but temper the elf's ensuing remark. "Estel, if you are not ready, then let us not waste this time with misplaced shots that could result in our game getting away and dying a useless death."

  
  


The boy turned from the archer then to hide the threat of tears that had gathered in his gray eyes. He would not let them fall, he vowed, in the presence of the elf, and he bit his quivering lip to aid himself with this oath. He would not allow the elf before him any further evidence of weakness on his part. 

  
  


The boy's actions had been abrupt, but even so they had not been fast enough to conceal from the elf the inadvisability of the words he had spoken, and the fragility of their earlier bond had suddenly become crimped with an irrepressible knot. The long walk home had been marked with silence, as both archer and child dwelt upon their innermost thoughts thus proving to Legolas that the weight of the buck, he now carried, was not the only present burden to weigh heavily upon him. 

  
  


Upon reaching Rivendell, the boy quickly disappeared from Legolas' sight, and the elf did not find him until many minutes later. By chance, as he made his way toward his own bed chamber, he came upon a door left slightly ajar leading into Lord Elrond's study. As his eye traveled through its length, they came to rest upon the sight of the Lord of Rivendell speaking with his youngest son. Legolas did not mean to intrude upon this intimate conversation, but his keen hearing could not help but pick up upon Aragorn's emotional outburst over the events that had happened earlier that day, as his father looked on and listened in silence. 

  
  


As the young boy finished his story, Legolas would never forget the reply the elf lord imparted to his youngest in return. "Legolas was right, Estel. If you are not ready, then you should not be out there . . . "

  
  


"But Father . . . " The young boy interrupted in choked response, so that the Silvan elf could tell he had been crying.

  
  


Not to be deterred, Elrond went on. "Do not let this truth distress you, Estel. Hesitation toward killing another is not a bad thing. It actually gladdens my heart that you do not find such a task so effortless. The time may come when such a decision is thrust upon you and you will have to react very differently than you did today. Do not take Legolas' words to heart so, for we should not fault him for speaking the truth though the words he chose to use may have wrought pain."

  
  


"Father . . . " The boy sniffled as Lord Elrond opened his arms to welcome the youth into his embrace.

  
  


Closing his arms about the boy, the elf lord whispered "Do not fret, my son. You are still young. There is plenty of time ahead of you to prove such prowess to yourself, for though you may think differently now, it is through how we view ourselves that truly influences how others will ultimately come to see us."

  
  


Legolas had remained long past the time appropriate for one, who accidently stumbles across a situation, but he could not help himself. Though he bore witness to similar less intimate scenes in the past, he was in awe of the relationship Elrond and his two sons had with the Human. The notion of such a connection had seemed so alien to the Silvan elf, but now as he stood witness to it once more, he couldn't help but feel a little envious of the bond between them, and perhaps a little saddened that he had acted today toward renewing the distance between himself and the boy. 

  
  


'Aragorn had gone on in time to prove himself a distinguished archer.' Legolas considered, as his thoughts drew to a close, and he returned once more to the present. The emancipation this memory had brought the elf helped to ease the agitation, which contended inside him, finally allowing him the peace to rest his eyes upon his friend without any of his previous overwhelming distress. Still tears began to trek down his face as he put voice to the fears and regrets that were bottled up within him. "I have permitted distance to once more come between us, nin mellon, perhaps irreparably so. You cannot begin to imagine the contrition my soul feels for being the cause of your present pain. Forgive me my friend. Were it possible to negate an action from time, mine would be the moment I let loose that final arrow. To know that I might be the cause of your demise . . . "

  
  


The elf never finished this thought for suddenly from behind him came a very audible gasp as another's words took over. "What do you mean, Legolas?"

  
  


Turning toward the unexpected voice, Legolas was startled to find he was no longer alone in the room with Aragorn, but at sometime during his previous discourse with his unconscious friend, his eldest brother, Elladan, had entered into it. 

  
  


Shocked surprise filled the raven-haired elf's eyes as he moved forward to close the gap between them and he uttered. "Surely, you do not speak the truth, nin mellon? Surely, you did not do this to my brother?"

  
  


"Elladan . . . " Legolas began shakily.

  
  


"No!" Elladan's troubled voice broke in, while increasing in volume as he reached forward take hold of the arms of the elf before him, the fierceness of his actions jerking the archer toward him, so he could look him square in the face. "No, Legolas!" Elladan exclaimed. "Assure me that this isn't so! That you did not do this to Estel!"

Heartache and misery marked the fair-haired elf's countenance as he made to reply to Elladan's accusations, but abruptly he was disrupted again as Aragorn's body upon the bed beside them stiffened then convulsed, while a choked gasp escaped the Human's lips.

  
  


TBC

  
  
  
  


Author's Notes: Thank you all once again for all your kind words! Each and every one of your comments has been greatly appreciated over the course of this story. I'll be leaving soon for vacation. I hope to post another chapter before I do if I have the time to write one, and if FFN's technical problems are corrected. I hurried to get this one out in under a week, but alas I couldn't post it till now. I really didn't want to leave things hanging as they were before I left, so I will do my best to come up with something more if I can. 

  
  


Dujoran- Your review for Chapter 10 helped me with writing this chapter. I originally didn't intend to include any more flashback sequences within my story, but I always like a challenge. It actually pleased me to go in this direction, because before this story is finished, I will have gone full circle and touch upon each of the previous three flashbacks once more. Thank you!

  
  


Red Minerva- Yes, I have written in another universe. :) I have participated in three Dr. Quinn pass along stories on another site-Portraits of a Town, Never Look Back, and Halloween Scenes. Two are completed stories, and one is a WIP. Thank you for expressing your interest in this story and my others.

  
  


Shaan Lien - Yes, I am familiar with that episode of Bonanza, though I have never watched it in its entirety. And yes, I have thought about the similarities in the plots as I have been writing this story and also with those of another episode from the show, "My Brother's Keeper". Good connection! I'm glad you're enjoying the story. 

  
  


Finally, I'd like to acknowledge the following website that I used in finding my information on archery. 

  
  


Though I took archery in high school and enjoyed it, my memory of its principles is now severely lacking. :) Until next time! Sue- aka Quickbeam

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.

  
  
  
  


Author's Note: Another big thank you to all! I appreciate you staying with my story through both its ups and downs. As promised, here is the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it! :)

  
  
  
  
  
  


Relesen Chapter 13

  
  


With unrestrained force the raven-haired elf yanked Legolas from the chair he had been sitting in moments before pulling him forward until their faces were but mere inches apart. Elladan's anguish filled gaze glared back at Legolas as his hands grasped reflexively around the archer's forearms beneath them exerting an oppressive pressure upon the still recovering flesh. Legolas bit back a pain-filled moan as his mind reeled trying to come up with the words to explain to the distraught elder brother the damage he had caused. His reply never came forthwith, for at that moment upon the bed beside them Aragorn's body began to seize. His neck and head arched backwards upon the pillow beneath him as a stifled gasp escaped his lips. All previous motion within the chamber stilled as both elves turned their eyes toward the suffering victim, whose body was now consumed with ongoing tremors.

  
  


"Estel!" Elladan cried out in fear immediately dropping Legolas' arms and moving forward to the bed to clasp his brother's shoulders in an attempt to calm him. " Estel? Estel? Dear Elbereth, help him!" He beseeched to the heavy air surrounding them unable to control the mounting trepidation building up inside of himself. "Please, Estel! Do not do this! Do not die on me, brother!" 

  
  


Elladan quickly turned a desperate eye toward the elf beside him. "Legolas, get my father now!" The raven-haired elf demanded.

  
  


But the Silvan elf remained rooted to the spot in which he now stood as his horror acted to disable him, while Elladan's last words played over and over again in his mind. 'Do not die on me, brother!' The archer's own mind screamed out in response. 'He is dying!'

  
  


"Legolas!" Elladan shrieked again noting the elf's immobility. "Legolas, do something!" But the fair-haired archer made no attempt to move.

  
  


Sudden indecision plagued Elladan's thoughts as he disputed in his mind whether to remain with his brother or go seek help until finally a choice was wrested from him. Breaking his hands away from this brother's body, he pushed past the motionless elf beside him and raced toward the door. His shouts immediately filled the hallway outside the room as he desperately sought out the aid of others. Mere moments passed, but it was enough. For in those seconds that elapsed the spasms that wracked Aragorn's body gradually began to decrease in their intensity and duration. Legolas stared on speechless as he believed he was witnessing the departure of his friend's spirit from this life. 

  
  


This was not to be, however. Immediately a small influx of people rushed into the room, and he was pushed aside, as they made their way toward the bed that Aragorn laid upon. As Legolas stood in shocked silence, he noted that Lord Elrond was amongst their number.

  
  


Not allowing his flowing robe to encumber him, the elf lord gathered upon the bed beside his son. His eyes were intent and his face marked with lines of concern. One of his slender hands moved forward to touch his son's brow while the other sought out the Man's now quieting forearm sliding down its length until it encircled his wrist. Without word, Elrond continued his examination as the fingers of one hand found his son's pulse point, while the other moved toward the still closed eyes using both his thumb and index finger to reveal their concealed gaze. 

  
  


"What is it, Father?" Elladan's anxious inquiry broke into the silence around them, as he finally put to voice the fear that consumed him. "Is...is Estel dying?"

  
  


The elf lord's eyes remained fixed upon his youngest, while his hands continued their cursory motions, but his answer brought relief to those surrounding him. "No, he is not dying, Elladan. Though still rapid, the pulse that beats within him is much stronger."

  
  


"Then he isn't going to . . . " Elladan's voice broke off as he was overcome with a rush of emotion and relief.

  
  


Another similar voice took his place as it asked. "Then what brought about these tremors that seized him, Father?"

  
  


Finally turning toward the small crowd assembled, Elrond answered the younger twin's question. "It seems that Estel is trying to find his way back to us, Elrohir. I have witnessed similar signs like this before in the Houses of Healing amongst the race of Men with those, who have experienced trauma akin to your brother's. Sometimes their return to consciousness have been marked by these strange and somewhat frightening reactions instead of a calm reawakening. It's as if their bodies are combating against the forces keeping them beneath the shroud of unawareness." 

  
  


"Then this is a good sign?" Elladan inquired incredulously. 

  
  


"It would seem so," His father answered before adding. "though we should not take anything for granted until your brother does return to us fully."

  
  


"When will that be?" Elrohir spoke up hopefully.

  
  


"I wish I could say, my son." Elrond continued soberly. "Only time and your brother's constitution will decide that for us, though I believe the importance of those tending to him now is even more crucial . Hearing our voices will encourage Estel to draw nearer."

  
  


"I shall not leave him!" Elrohir answered instantly.

  
  


"Nor will I!" Elladan emphatically followed. 

  
  


"Good." Their father acknowledged before turning to address those still assembled about them. "Thank you, my friends, for your undivided concern. I believe this situation surrounding my son is now under control . It would be best for you to leave us to attend to him. We will let you know if there is any change in his condition, be it for the better or the worse."

  
  


Slowly the crowd that had gathered dispersed from the room until the number remaining within its walls could be counted upon one hand. Elrond turned to speak to his eldest, but his intentions were immediately interrupted by a low moan from the figure upon the bed. Instantly, the elf lord clasped the hand of his youngest between his own two and spoke. "Estel? Can you hear me?"

  
  


Aragorn's prone body moved once again in restless reaction. "Yes, my son!" Elrond encouraged. "Fight against this veil that keeps you from us. You have slumbered long enough, Estel. It is time for you to return!"

  
  


The Man moaned again as the fitful responses of his body increased. Elrohir and Elladan stood aside as they watched their father continue to urge Aragorn on in his journey back to them. "That's it my son! Do not allow the weight of this shroud to hold you back, but follow my voice! Seek its comfort! " 

  
  


Aragorn's head moved from side to side upon the pillow beneath it as if in argument with some unseen foe. His free hand grabbed restlessly at the coverings below it, as his eyelids began to flutter open until finally they revealed the glazed gray depths beneath them. They remained open only momentarily, but it was enough to satisfy his family gathered about him, and his father spoke up tearfully. "Welcome back, my son. You have been absent from us for too long, and we rejoice in your return." Leaning forward while still clasping the young man's hand within his own, the elf lord placed a tender kiss upon his youngest son's brow. In answer, he felt the return pressure of his son's left hand as it weakly squeezed his own. Elrond was unable to control the tears that spilled forth as his heart acknowledged that his son was indeed back with them. Moving aside he allowed Elladan and Elrohir to take his place next to Aragorn listening to their muted and emotion filled words of relief, while his eyes scanned the room about him for the presence of another. His search came up empty.

  
  
  
  


Author's note: Well that will be it for a few weeks as I get ready to leave for vacation. I must focus my attentions now on washing, cleaning, shopping and packing. Oh all the stresses one must go through just to relax! LOL! I hope I have left off at a better point than before. I will continue on with the story just as soon as I can upon my return. Until then! Sue aka Quickbeam.

  
  


PS: I noticed the website I used for research on archery that I tried to acknowledge in Chapter 12 did not show up when I uploaded the chapter. It is called Six Toxophological Principles of Archery by H. Kent Craig

  
  



	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters

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Author's Note: A big thank you once again to all my readers and reviewers! I hope you continue to enjoy this next chapter! :)

  
  
  
  


Relesen Chapter 14

  
  
  
  
  
  


Elrond's gaze continued to move about the room around him. Though his arrival into it had been marked with chaos, he did not believe that his busy eyes had imagined Legolas' presence within its walls earlier. Now as his scrutinizing gaze made one final sweep through the space surrounding him, he began to wonder if perhaps his beleaguered brain had been playing tricks upon him after all. 

  
  


Another low moan from bed beside him interrupted his thoughts, pulling him away from this speculation. Turning once again in its direction, he moved back to fill the space he had occupied only moments before beside his son. Elladan and Elrohir turned worried eyes toward their father. Placing a comforting hand against his youngest's brow, the elf lord issued several soothing words forth in an attempt to quiet the Man. The two younger elves listened intently as their father's voice worked toward calming their increasingly agitated brother. 

  
  


As Aragorn's motions stilled and he lay once again silent upon the bed, Elladan spoke up. "He has awakened, Father, so why is he still plagued with such unrest?" 

  
  


Elrond turned insightful eyes toward his eldest. "Yes, Elladan, he has awakened, and though troublesome was the deep sleep Estel fell into, it also provided him with the comfort of protection."

  
  


"Protection? " The elder twin queried perplexedly.

  
  


"Yes." The elf lord answered again before continuing on. "For while he was within its grasp, it kept him from experiencing the full extent of his injuries. Now that his mind has begun to reawaken, so the rest of his body will follow suit as well."

  
  


"Can't you give him something to relieve his present pain, Father?" Elrohir countered immediately. 

  
  


Elrond's eyes instantly filled with regret as they turned back toward his Human son. "Though it may seem cruel, taking such a course of action now might only prove detrimental to your brother's recovery."

  
  


"How?" Elladan immediately interjected unable to hold back the indignation rising in his voice.

  
  


"By luring your brother back toward his previous somnolent state." The elf lord answered. "He could easily relapse into an unnatural slumber, and slip away from us again. I hesitate to initiate such a risk, even if what awaits him might prove to be disturbing."

  
  


"So though he has returned to us, this is but one in a long line of hurdles that he must overcome on his road to recovery." Elrohir concluded dejectedly.

  
  


Elladan spoke up once again as if his heart was breaking. "I cannot bear to think of Estel in such distress . . . not with all that he's been through . . . not with all he's had to overcome thus far!" Wildly the raven-haired elf's gaze began to search the room about him precipitating both his father and brother to question his strange behavior. 

  
  


"What is it, brother?" Elrohir asked putting his concern into words only to be interrupted by Elladan's immediate rebuttal.

  
  


"Where is he?" The elder twin demanded. "Does he continue to hide from the hurts he has inflicted?" The elf continued forcefully as startled realization began to dawn within his two companions' eyes.

  
  
  
  


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Unsteadily Legolas advanced through the passageway before him, leaning heavily against its stone structure for support. He had no clue as to what destination he now headed toward only acknowledging the need to put distance between himself and the haunting scene previously before him. Breathing heavily and fighting off increasing fatigue, he continued on in his trek until finally reaching an impasse in the form of an enclosed balcony. Halting his forward progression, the elf swiped a shaky hand across his presently sweat dampened brow, while using his other arm to try and gain support for himself against the adjacent parapet. The inconsequential action brought pain with it, and he clamped his mouth shut to try and stifle an involuntary groan.

  
  


Wild-eyed the Silvan elf glared around at his impromptu surroundings immediately realizing its location was known to him. Though an infrequent visitor here, he had occupied this site before. The terrace he now stood upon lay at the far reaches of the elven fortress, removed a great distance from its occupied living quarters. It had been a setting of both solitude and great mischief for the prince. The latter, if he remembered correctly, had been in the form of an inadvisable challenge surfacing from a rare bout with idleness and taking place many decades earlier before Aragorn's arrival within the elven realm. The troubled elf let his thoughts scatter as he began to seek comfort in his surroundings' familiarity. 

  
  


In his mind's eye he found himself once again in the company of the twins. Their dare from that long ago day had been born out of their shared boredom. With nothing better to do the mischievous threesome roamed the halls of the realm looking for trouble. Happening upon this remote locale, the sight of a rare walnut tree amongst all the other forestation offered up a challenge that the reckless trio could not resist. It had been decided that the first elf without benefit of touching the surrounding ground below them to bring back its shelled fruit would be declared the winner. Legolas recalled the daredevil feats each of them willing undertook to beat out the others, but it had been Elladan, much to the elf's younger twin's and his own chagrin, who eventually won out, though not before adding several scrapes and bruises to his lithe form. Burdensome thoughts were momentarily pushed further aside as his fatigued eyes began scanning the area surrounding him to search out the nut bearing growth, but he came up empty as the encompassing vista around him was now cloaked by overgrown oaks. Spurred on by this fleeting memory of a happier times, the fair-haired elf moved closer toward the parapet beside him drawing himself up upon its length to aid him in his search. 'Surely the tree still stood amongst their numbers.' He reasoned until the folly of his actions returned to him as he suddenly began to sway and felt his efforts to maintain his balance quickly flee from him. He acted toward righting himself only to end up collapsing in a heap upon the cool stone ledge beneath him as he waited for the uneasiness that had overtaken him to pass.

  
  


"Such a foolhardy action!". Legolas verbally reprimand himself as the buzzing that was now beginning to fill his head only increased instead of dissipating, compelling the elf to place his head down even lower between his now bent knees in an effort to regain some composure. "You cannot reclaim the past!" He railed on. "It is lost to you! Gone! Dead!"

  
  


With these last chilling words, Legolas' head snapped up. A storm of emotion now rioted in his deep blue eyes. 'Dead . . . Gone . . . as was Aragorn!' His heart broke with this admission. He had fled from his chamber only minutes prior . . . before the duration of his friend's short life drew to its inevitable close. 'Lord Elrond was right! He was a coward!' He had been too overwrought to remain with the room's walls and bear witness to his companion's final departure . . . ' "Oh, Estel!" Legolas sobbed while allowing his head to sink back down into his awaiting hands. The slickness of moisture coated his face at the contact as a hollow emptiness welled up inside of him preventing any further tears to be shed. "Aragorn!" He wailed again lifting his head back up away from his hands. 

  
  


Unbeknownst to Legolas, a sluice of blood now marked his features, originating from the right sleeve of the tunic he wore, soiling its cuff and the hand below it in its drenching release. The elf remained incognizant to this blood loss being weighted down by his mourning. The buzzing within his head increased tenfold as a blank stare of grief now adorned his features. He continued staring out over the patio before him as the beating of his heart hammered even faster within his chest, while the second of his two memories now played out upon his tormented mind. For the irony of it did not leave him that it was on this very spot some seven years earlier that he and Aragorn had finally cemented their bond of friendship.

  
  


It was during the preceding weeks of this time that Aragorn had fought hard to return the archer back to the safety of Rivendell. The two had been taken captive, beaten, and tortured by a band of marauding orcs. It had been Legolas, who had suffered the worse from their reprehensible treatment, and he would have finally succumbed at their hands had it not been for Aragorn. Against the elf's better judgment, the Man had shunned his words to leave the archer behind, instead transporting him through densely covered thickets while fighting off their ensuing attackers. Legolas remembered little from the days that had followed being racked by both fever and pain from his injuries. Aragorn had nursed him through the worst of it, though delirium had acted toward submerging many of these memories beneath the enveloping haze that had surrounded him. Had it not been for the Human, he would have surely perished. Though still miserably weakened, his faculties finally returned to him during the last days of their flight as they reached the outskirts of Imaldris. The Silvan elf bore eyewitness to the calm and calculated conduct of his companion, no longer a child, but a true and gifted warrior with the makings to become a great leader. This knowledge both pleased and unsettled the elf.

  
  


In the days that had followed their return to the elven kingdom, both Man and Elf had kept their distance. Legolas used this time to reclaim his strength taking many long walks as it returned to him. He knew not of how the Human filled this time until the day they had met up once again. Their meeting had been upon this very balcony on which he now stood. Walking to this farthest reach, the fair-haired elf found himself upon the remote terrace overlooking the grounds of Imaldris. Believing himself to be alone, he stood and spent his time staring out over the bower before him gaining fortitude from its calming presence. Achieving his fill of both the beauty and solitude surrounding him, he turned to leave. It was then that he noticed the attendance of another at the far corner of the outdoor patio. It was Aragorn. The Man's arrival could not have succeeded his own for he would have surely noted his added presence. No, it was he, who had intruded upon this much favored retreat of Aragorn's. Looking up to meet the greeting countenance of his fellow companion, Legolas noted the Man's outward appearance toward his intrusion did not seem totally unwelcome. Acknowledging the elf's presence with a brief nod, Aragorn made no attempt to speak. Feeling the intruder, Legolas felt it necessary to find the words to excuse his disruption. 

  
  


"Had I known, I would not have encroached upon your solitude." He spoke out.

  
  


A wry sparkle glinted in the Human's eyes at the elf's words, though he did not allude to it with his answer. "Though isolated, I lay no prior claim to this seclusion. It is yours to enjoy as well as mine for as long as you wish."

  
  


"Thank you." The elf countered somewhat stiffly before finishing with. "Though I believe you may misrepresent the importance of this location to yourself, and are just trying to be accommodating toward my sudden intrusion into your privacy."

  
  


The Man laughed in earnest now totally discomforting the elf. "Oh, if it were only mine to claim! No, I willingly share it with all, yourself included. Do not stand on formality, Legolas, a grievous fault of which you are so inclined toward."

  
  


"Formality?" The elf exclaimed, his voice raising a few decibels with his appall. "I can assure you I do not stand upon such pretense!"

  
  


"Hogwash!" Aragorn countered immediately, a wicked grin filling his countenance. "Elladan and Elrohir have both assured me that somewhere buried beneath that stiff exterior of yours is a kindred spirit, though I have yet to witness any evidence of its bearing."

  
  


A dangerous light flickered in Legolas' azure eyes as he allowed himself to be bated even further by the human's softly spoken words. "Stiff?" He interjected when his indignation cooled sufficiently to allow him further speech.

  
  


"Yes, and have I mentioned yet the inordinate amount of time you spend in front of a looking glass?..." 

  
  


A flush of red crept up Legolas's neck to color his face. Had not the human only days previously saved his own life, he might have charged forth across the distance separating them and exacted his own brand of revenge for the slanderous accusations just uttered against him. But finding his much sought after reserve at calm quickly depleting within himself, he hastily turned to go. It was then that he heard the ensuing ring of laughter that met his departure. Unable to quell the rising tide of anger within himself, he turned to confront the Man before him and he noted the previous wry grin had been replaced by a genuine smile.

  
  


Noticing the elf's increased fury, Aragorn held up his hands to ward him off. "Peace, Legolas! I see though your body is healing, your temperament is still bruised. Please, my friend, do not assault me, for my words were only made in jest. I must admit that the wrath I see presently burning within your eyes, is even more frightening than the prospect of reencountering that horde of orcs we just faced off with."

  
  


Aragorn noted with his words that Legolas' previous resolve began to dissipate and the Silvan elf answered. "How can you joke about such a thing?"

  
  


"How can I not?" The man retorted in all sincerity. "For to not do so would allow its gravity to overwhelm me."

  
  


The elf raised a questioning eyebrow to the Man's response before replying. "Still I would not find amusement with such devastation."

  
  


"Never!" Aragorn answered. "Never would I make light about the death and destruction the forces of evil are wreaking upon our lands, but I cannot not allow its heaviness to bear down upon me during my every waking moment for to do so would be ruinous. We must seek out the pleasure and the laughter in this life, even from the very smallest of things whenever and wherever we can find them, nin mellon."

  
  


Legolas' gaze shifted back toward Aragorn's. The man's final words hitting him hard. Aragorn had called him 'my friend.' Were they friends? The elf wondered. Surely the two had been through much together during the horrendous preceding weeks, but were they now friends? Brothers in arms? Companions? A part of him like to think so, but still another part of him held back. Could an Elf and a Human truly be friends? He pondered.

  
  


Noting Legolas' hesitancy, Aragorn suddenly reached behind himself to withdraw something from the far corner of the balcony kept concealed by its shadows. As the Man's hand extended forward toward him, he held the elf's bow within it. 

  
  


Confusion marked Legolas' countenance as he began to take from the Man what he now offered to him. Aragorn spoke up. "When we were making our escape from the orc encampment, I had only time enough to recover one bow and quiver along with my sword. The bow was yours." The Human acknowledged. "I meant no deceit through my actions, but necessity dictated that I should use it."

  
  


Noting Legolas' continued bewilderment, Aragorn went on to explain. "You made it clear a long time ago that none besides yourself was to touch it let alone use it. I am sorry, Legolas."

  
  


Legolas shook his head in disbelief at Aragorn's need for explanation or apology as he answered. "But you saved my life, Aragorn?..."

  
  


"Aye." The Man replied gravely.

  
  


"Then how could you expect me to be disgruntled by your use of my bow?" The perplexed elf questioned.

  
  


"Because it is special to you. There are none that surpass it either in beauty or craftsmanship."

  
  


"Still . . . " Legolas began only to find his words cut short by the emotions suffusing him as the remembrance of Aragorn's last few words filtered through his now cluttered brain only to be amended. 'There are none that surpass him . . . ' An odd rush of warmth filled the elf's soul during that moment as he finally took in the sight of the Human before him and all that he stood for. Aragorn was truly the best of Men.

  
  


Placing the bow's weight back into his companion's hand, Aragorn responded. "I am giving it back to you. You caught me unsuspectingly today. I've spent the better part of this past week here in this seclusion working upon it and fashioning new arrows, so that it would be worthy of being returned to you. I am honored to place it back within your hands, Legolas, now that you are well once more. Someday if both time and the fates permit us, I hope to fight by your side again." The Man's own last words were marked with emotion. 

  
  


Legolas remained speechless, but it was his next gesture that acted toward sealing the long awaited friendship between Man and Elf. Taking his free hand, he placed it over Aragorn's upon the bow in agreement and appreciation for all that had taken place.

  
  


Now still perched upon the parapet, a crushing sadness consumed the elf. His friend was now most likely dead, and the bond of friendship between them no more. Pain knifed through his soul only to be replaced moments later by an all-encompassing numbness that spread throughout him in deathless claim. The droning abuzz within his brain was now incessant as he raised his head in despair, while he prepared to gather his legs from under him in a desperate attempt to stand. An uneasy wooziness crept in to accompany the preceding numbness as the elf's shaky efforts failed with his struggle. A noise entering in upon the balcony halted his progress as his blood slick hand slipped out from under him precariously upsetting his attempt to maintain his balance. Turning dazed eyes to note who now approached, the elf's heart was suddenly in his throat. For there before him stood Aragorn or at least a hazy apparition of his dearly departed friend.

  
  


"Sweet Elbereth!" The Silvan elf breathed, as he felt himself begin to slip. 

  
  


Another voice followed immediately calling out in warning. "Legolas! Keep still! Do not move!"

  
  
  
  


Author's Note: Well I hope that wasn't too confusing. All will be explained in the following chapters. If it will help any, please note this story is not labeled as a tragedy. :) Yes, the story is drawing to a conclusion, though I'm still not sure how many chapters it will take to achieve that accomplishment. I am going to try to keep to my previous schedule of posting one chapter a week until it does, and will post sooner if both time and creativity allow me. I had a hard time with this most recent chapter. I think extended time away from a story makes it more difficult when you return to it. This is not how I envisioned the chapter as taking place when I left for vacation, but I've kept those notes to use for later on. Thank you all for your kind words especially concerning my trip. It was very relaxing and fulfilling. I caught up on some much needed rest that writing fan fiction usually impinges upon. :)

  
  


I'm not sure if there were walnut trees on Middle-earth. I searched the Enclyclopedia of Arda for some mention of either fruit or nut bearing trees in Tolkien's works, but came up empty on both accounts. Forgive me for this discrepancy, though I'm sure there are many more glaring ones throughout the text of my story both in grammar and content. :) From what I could gather from both weather and the locale of Rivendell, it's possible that such a tree could survive upon its grounds. Until next time! Sue aka-Quickbeam. :)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.

  
  
  
  


Author's Note: I know I keep saying this again and again, but thank you to all my readers and reviewers for all your kind words and suggestions! They are truly appreciated and are so helpful to me toward writing this story. To know that those of you that have responded back to me over the course my writing are enjoying my efforts is just so fulfilling and makes writing this story all the more worthwhile to me. I hope you continue to enjoy this next chapter! :)

  
  
  
  


Relesen-Chapter15

  
  
  
  
  
  


Haphazardly perched upon the parapet, Legolas was seeking to get down from it when everything seemed to happen all at once. The startling appearance of Aragorn, the incessant ringing inside of his head, the sudden outburst of voice for him to not move any further, and his own inability to remain balanced due to the slickness and accompanying pain of his misplaced hand. It all proved too much for the Silvan elf as he began to topple backwards. Glazed eyes quickly moved to take in the swirling vista of green beneath him that he would have fallen toward had not expeditious hands caught hold of his garments at the last possible moment and then his body beneath them, halting what would most likely have proven to be a fatal fall. The rescue was not without consequence, for as Legolas was hauled back toward the safety of the balcony, his head glanced the side of the stone rail he had stood upon. The abrupt and painful blow only furthered the elf's previous disorientation. This new contusion acted toward compounding the impairment his vision already suffered from due to his increased blood loss, and now he suddenly found himself flat on his back upon the cold, unyielding stone surface of the terrace staring up at a blurry image that wove in and out of the encroaching darkness surrounding it. Many moments passed before Legolas could gather some semblance to the hazy thoughts that filled his head, all the while the unclear figure above him did not speak, but seemed to struggle toward gaining control over his own labored breathing, a result from his prior exertions.

  
  


Finally through the harsh intake of breaths above him, Legolas heard a questioning voice speak out. "What were you trying to do, Legolas?" The voice like the image it came from remained garbled to the elf. Legolas tried to sift through his increasingly muddled musings and only one thought came to his mind. The elf spoke it. "Estel?"

  
  


The hazy figure above him suddenly drew silent and still at his words as the archer continued on. "Estel, it is you! How? Why?" The elf questioned as his mixed up mind tried to find reason through the torrent of emotions that now washed over him.

  
  


"But it is . . . " The answering voice began stiffly only to be interrupted by the elf.

  
  
  
  


"You are alive . . . " Legolas began in wonder, until dark thoughts suddenly clouded his previous hopeful heart. "...unless that, which stands before me, is only the spirit of the Man, I have loved so well, coming to bid me its final farewell. But NO!" The elf bit off trying to gather some semblance of peace from the flurry of activity running amuck inside his now suffering head. "No!" The elf went on. "For a mere spirit would not possess the power to achieve such a rescue and I felt . . . " Legolas continued emphatically. "I felt the true strength of the flesh and the bones of your hands upon me, as they acted toward pulling me back to the comfort of safety! It is you, Estel! For a spirit would not possess such qualities! Ah, Elbereth, you live nin mellon! You live!" The elf finished in choked relief.

  
  


"Legolas . . . " The urgent voice above him responded once again, but the archer made no allowance toward its intervention as he hastily continued on.

  
  


"The Valar have granted my prayers at last! It has been my one constant petition since the moment my arrow . . . " At this Legolas' speech suddenly faltered as he struggled within himself to make this one final admission. "Since the moment . . . " He tried again. "Since the moment my arrow struck you! Oh dear, Elbereth! It was my arrow! My arrow that brought you down!" The flood of grief and guilt that accompanied this confession bore heavily down upon the elf.

  
  


"Legolas . . . It is not . . . " The desperate voice above him began again to no avail for the Silvan elf would not be shaken from his pursuit.

  
  


"Estel!" The elf replied tremulously. "Estel! It was my arrow! I do not know what I was thinking! I sought only to free you from the orcs that had you surrounded! I heard your cry! I saw your blood! The blood spilling forth to stain your tunic from the slash of their scimitar! And then you fell and they were on top of you making ready for the kill! The delight on their faces at your impending doom! And all reason fled from me at that moment as I reached for that first arrow! I fired off one after the other as their numbers diminished, watching as their previous glee turned into astonished disbelief! For such hate rose within me for what they did! It clouded my judgment! It hastened my actions, until I reached for that one final arrow and let it loose. It sailed toward the remaining orc above you, but at the last moment . . . Oh Elbereth! Oh Elbereth! It hit you! It hit you! You moved within its path and it hit you! I shot my friend! I shot my friend!" Legolas sobbed. His breath and voice now coming in hitched gasps from the painful memory. "I shot the one I sought to protect! It was my arrow! It was by my hand that you fell! My hand! I will never forget the look on your face the moment before you fell, realizing that it was ultimately by my hand that your impending death would come!" Legolas drew his hands up to cover his grief-stricken eyes as if to blot out the accompanying memory, while his head shook back and forth trying to negate its ever happening as he repeated his final words with a gut wrenching sob. "It was by my hand that you fell!" 

  
  


"Legolas!" The adamant voice above him repeated unable to keep from it the distress he now felt upon hearing the elf's confession.

  
  


Removing his hands from his red, swollen eyes, Legolas stared up again at the blurry figure above him. Reaching a hand forward, he cupped the face of the man he perceived before him, brushing his fingers tenderly against the warm, smooth flesh of his cheek. "But you live! The Valar have answered my prayer and you live, Estel! That's all that matters! Forgive me, nin mellon! Forgive me! The Valar have answered my prayers . . . " Instantly the hand dropped back down toward the elf's chest, falling slack with the contact, and the tormented blue eyes lost their battle against the encroaching darkness, rolling back into the Silvan elf's head. 

  
  


"Legolas!" The voice above him sounded in alarm. "Legolas!" Immediately searching hands moved toward the stricken elf. One drawing toward the blood soaked sleeve of his forearm seeking to find the source of its wound to staunch any further flow of blood from it. The other moved toward the growing lump that marked the elf's right temple, brushing back the hair that covered it in a gesture of comfort before finally putting to voice the words that up until now had remained unspoken. "He lives, nin mellon. Yes, he lives!" Elladan answered shakily, unable to stop his own flow of tears as he beheld his fallen friend before him. 

  
  
  
  


Author's Note: I know this latest chapter was very short. I had planned for it originally to be much longer, but when I reached this point I felt it best leave off here and save the rest for the next chapter. I've been going over this chapter again and again in my mind for the better part of a week and initially planned for it to be Elrond, who finds Legolas, but somewhere in the back of my mind I toyed with the idea that it should be Elladan though that final decision wasn't made until I sat down at the keyboard. My chapters have a way of writing themselves that way. I never wanted to make Elladan out to be the bad guy in his reaction toward finding out that it was Legolas' arrow that injured his brother and once he found out, I felt it would most likely take an emotional confrontation, such as the one he witnessed, that would truly have him see the desperation and the circumstances surrounding his brother's injuries and cause him to ultimately accept what had happene. Elrond conveying this message to him later, as I earlier planned, just didn't seem enough to me at least, but then again I tend to go a little overboard at times. 

  
  


Legolas' confusion at mistaking Elladan for Aragorn? Well the elf has been through a lot, he is physically weakened from all that has come before this, one of his prior injuries has reopened and his blood loss from it has caused him to be somewhat disoriented, and prior to Elladan finding him, his mind was filled with the heavy thoughts of memories surrounding Aragorn. Add to this the author's plea for leniency if the previous arguments don't mesh with the reader. *tired puppy dog eyes* I hope this has cleared up any confusion anyone might have had with this and the previous chapter. Gosh, the author's notes are almost as long as the chapter! Sorry! Anyway, I hoped you enjoyed it! Until next time! Sue aka-Quickbeam

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.

  
  


Author's Note: Thank you all once again! Your kind words are greatly appreciated and all of your suggestions are keenly noted. I have mentioned to my friend, who writes also, how you have helped me to write a better story through the messages you have sent to me. You are keeping me on track! I hope you continue to enjoy this next chapter! 

  
  


Relesen Chapter 16

  
  
  
  
  
  


With weary eyes, Elrond surveyed his handiwork as his gaze swept over the numerous delicate stitches he had used to knit together once again the flesh on Legolas' forearm. Reaching for a roll of bandages with which to further bind the wound, the Eldar's brow knitted with concern, while his gaze shifted away from his own busy hands upward to take in the pale countenance of the one now laying before him. The Silvan elf's initial injury upon his return to Rivendell had been a grave one, his flesh marred by a deep and ragged cut, but this new damage, he had sustained, was all the more serious in nature. For not only had the elf's original wound reopened, but a vessel carrying blood from the archer's heart down his arm toward his hand had been nicked in the process. This fact alone was enough to worry him, the elf lord acknowledged, as he silently resumed his task of wrapping Legolas' wound, but the immortal being's First Born tendency toward rapid recuperation had been greatly compromised by all that the elf had been through both physically and emotionally in the preceding days. To add to that the burden of blood loss and a possible concussion made Elrond's spirit all the graver.

  
  


An involuntary shudder escaped the elf lord as his gaze moved across the room toward the chair containing the figure of his eldest son. Elladan's lithe form upon it belied the heaviness of his emotions. The elder twin looked on in stunned silence as he watched his father tend to the fair-haired elf, while a remorseful expression haunted his features

  
  


Elrond would never forget his initial impression when he had first caught sight of Elladan carrying Legolas' injured body through the long hallway toward him. For the second time in just hours, the elder twin's shouts of dismay had filled the hallways of the realm. This time Legolas lay limply within his arms, and a trail of blood marked the path they had taken. Elrond had feared in those first moments that his eldest had allowed unchecked emotion to get the better of him, and that he had sought out retribution upon the Silvan elf for the injuries he had caused his youngest brother. The elf lord's heart had stilled in his chest as his eyes moved away from Legolas' stricken form to meet with those of his son's, and for a brief moment he was unable to hide from Elladan the apprehension that consumed him. Elrond knew with certainty that Elladan had acknowledged this fear and doubt on his part, but his eldest son had only hesitated briefly as if to struggle with it before his voice and his movements took over spurring his father into action. 

  
  


Breathlessly, Elladan moved forward toward the gathering crowd assembling about him to deposit Legolas's still body into the awaiting arms of those around him, while he struggled to speak. "I found him, Father, upon the far portico." The raven-haired elf panted. "He would have fallen had I not caught him . . . " Elladan continued while drawing a heavy breath. "He struck his head upon the parapet on his way down and he's bleeding profusely from his right arm. I tried to stop the flow of blood from it, but the wound is too deep! Help him, Father! Please!" Elladan finished in a desperate rush of words while bending forward in an attempt to catch his breath.

  
  


In the moments following the mayhem of this desperate arrival, the voices surrounding them were filled with words describing the utter chaos found along the hallways of the realm with the discovery of toppled furniture, fallen tapestries, a shattered vase, and blood marred walls and floors. For Elladan had not been alone in his pursuit to find Legolas. Elrohir had gone with him, procuring the assistance of the other elves he had encountered along the way, though the younger twin had yet to return.

  
  


As these muddled musings reached the elf lord, his mind went back over the few rushed words of explanation he had given to his eldest concerning Legolas' apparent role in Aragorn's injuries. Elrond, himself, had planned to seek out the whereabouts of the Silvan elf when it was discovered that he was missing, but Elladan was quick to jump in with his opposition to such a plan, proclaiming resolutely that his Father should stay with Estel. He went on to question verbally how Elrond could allow his concern for Legolas to outweigh that for his own son.

  
  


Elrond listened anxiously to his eldest's arguments before responding. "We do not know yet the circumstances surrounding your brother's condition, Elladan. I will not believe ill of Legolas, and I am not about to start jumping to conclusions! Please make way, for he is in no condition to be left alone!" 

  
  


"But neither is Estel, Father!" Elladan countered harshly. "How can you take to the plight of the one, who struck him down, over that of your own ailing son? I cannot believe such impropriety on your part!"

  
  


"If I had the time to argue, I would have something to say about your acrimonious words to me, my son! But this moment is ill chosen, and I do not wish to dispute your disregard toward my explanation. I must go! ..."

  
  


"No, Father! I will not let you! I will not let you leave my brother's side . . . not for him! Never for him! I will go in your stead, if someone must find him!"

  
  


"Elladan . . . " Elrond began warily, unable to keep himself from being drawn into the emotion of the moment.

  
  


The eldest twin did not need for his father to continue on in conversation, for he could see the feelings of deep misgiving flashing within his now stormy eyes and hastily Elladan added. "And I will take Elrohir with me, Father, if that will put your mind at rest toward what my possible conduct might be if I should find Legolas!"

  
  


Not bothering to wait for a response, Elladan turned and stormed out of the room in search of the Silvan elf. Hesitating only briefly, Elrohir issued his father a quick look of concern before hastily taking off after his brother's swiftly departing figure, leaving Elrond alone to his thoughts.

  
  


Now as their eyes met again over the distance separating them, Elrond could not help but detect the glimmer of deep regret that filled Elladan's own. 

  
  


The younger elf was the first to turn and look away, staring down at his restless hands upon his lap.

  
  


"You could not have known . . . " Elrond began in an attempt to break the heavy silence between them.

  
  


"Don't, Father!" Elladan interrupted.

  
  


Elrond curtailed his efforts at speech as he took in the increased distress that marked his son's countenance as Elladan lifted his head while he continued on. Gathering tears filled his gray eyes. "How could I have doubted him?" He asked as if questioning himself more than expecting an answer forthwith. "I have known him for eons. He has been a dear and trusted friend." Elladan rebuked. "Yes, circumstances were strained between him and Estel at first, but over the years . . . " Elladan hesitated as his voice began to break. "...over the years they had come to understand one another . . . had become friends . . . had come to regard and to love each other as brothers . . . How could I have let myself think the worst of him?" Elladan choked as his head dropped forward into his hands.

  
  


"Elladan, . . . " Elrond spoke up while placing Legolas' now bandaged arm to rest back down upon the bed below him before drawing the covers up over the elf's still form then moving around the bed toward his son. "...you were not to know. You cannot blame yourself!"

  
  


"How can I not, Father?" Elladan questioned in desperation. "I chose to distrust one of my closest friends and . . . " Elladan's voice broke once more as he looked up grievously at his father. "...and even you, my own father . . . " 

  
  


Elrond's heart felt even heavier at this last disclosure, not from his son's words, but from his own inaction toward preventing what had occurred. 'If he hadn't kept silent . . . If he hadn't held back . . . ' A rush of unchecked emotion besieged the usually calm elf lord. 'When would this suffering end?' He questioned. The tragedy surrounding Aragorn and Legolas had mushroomed to engulf them all. None had remained untouched from the anguish in the wake of its path. 'Iluvatar!' Elrond entreated. 'Give me the strength to bear all that has happened thus far, and that, which is yet to come! Let me find the words to right what has gone wrong, to give counsel to those in need of my help, and to give hope to those now in despair! Let me find the strength to carry on . . . '

  
  


Turning sad eyes toward his eldest, Elrond spoke up. "Do not blame yourself, Elladan. Your reaction was only natural. Our race is not devoid of emotion. Your brother was hurt. You sought to right the wrong you believed done to him . . . "

  
  


"But Legolas was . . . is my friend, Father." Elladan interrupted gruffly.

  
  


"Yes." Elrond answered. "And it was that knowledge that ruled your heart in the end, for you saved him. You saved him from falling. Your love for him won out over the wrong you believed he had committed."

  
  


"But what did I drive him to, Father?" You did not see him upon the parapet this night! You did not witness the desperation so apparent in his eyes! If I had been but a few moments later . . . I shudder to think of what the consequences might have been!" Elladan's voice drew tight with this admission.

  
  


"But you were not late in getting there." Elrond returned. "You were there when he needed you."

  
  


"Was I Father?" Elladan questioned. "For he needed me long before that moment upon the parapet!"

  
  


"We cannot go about second guessing what has passed, my son." Elrond answered. "But only move forward and do what is right in the future. You did that. You were there for Legolas. You came to his aid and then sought out help for him when he needed it most."

  
  


Dropping his head back down into his awaiting hands, Elladan shook it back and forth in distressed response to his father's reply. "I cannot but help but feel responsible for his condition, Father, if not emotionally than physically. I laid my hands upon him in Estel's room after overhearing his revelation. I treated him roughly. It may have been by my hand that he . . ."

  
  


"If you must blame yourself, then blame me too, Elladan!" Elrond interrupted emphatically.

The younger elf's head shot up in disbelief to his father's words as Elrond continued. "For I am just as much to blame as you for keeping what knowledge I had of Legolas and Estel's circumstance to myself!"

  
  


"How can you say that, Father?" Elladan queried though he was unable to keep the hurt from his voice nor from his countenance at his father's admission.

  
  


"It was not done through any mistrust in you, Elladan, of that you can be sure!"

  
  


"My actions have not offered proof to that effect!" Elladan railed.

  
  


"What are you guilty of, Elladan? Harboring strong emotion? Many of us have experienced such intensity of feeling! I cannot honestly say that hesitancy never crossed my mind after learning that it was Legolas' arrow that had struck down your brother. The same can be said for Elrohir."

  
  


"Yes, Father! But you did not let such misgivings consume you!"

  
  


"That is right." Elrond answered gravely. "But there have been times in my life when I have felt as strongly as you did at that moment. I have learned to temper such emotion, my son, to allow my head to overrule the dictates of my heart."

  
  


"I am not sure I will ever be as wise as you are, Father." 

  
  


Elrond stared back at his eldest. The love he felt for him filling his countenance, and he reached forward to caress his eldest's face with his hand. "Do not be so hard on yourself, Elladan, for it is a great gift to feel such strength of emotion as you do. One in which the goodness will always takes precedence. One in which love will always come first." 

  
  


Neither was certain who was the first to move, but within a heartbeat the father had clasped his son toward him. Elladan buried his face into his father's shoulder as his tears fell to wet the Eldar's robe. Elrond spoke quiet words of comfort as he listened to his son's disjointed discourse. "You should have heard him father! The pain he now feels! The guilt he now bears over his actions! He was trying to save Estel's life! Estel had been injured! He had fallen! The orcs had him surrounded and Legolas was only trying to save his life when Estel rose up into the path of his oncoming arrow! How could I have held Legolas accountable for trying to save my brother's life?"

  
  


"Hush, Elladan!" Elrond soothed as his hands reached upward to stroke his son's hair and back. "You are not to blame. None of us are!"

  
  


Many long minutes passed as Elrond held his eldest within the comfort of his arms, listening to his words and consoling his distress until Elladan had spent all his emotion, and then the elf lord continued to hold him in the comfort that can only be offered by silent acceptance. 

  
  


Finally drawing his son back, Elrond's concerned eyes took hold of his son's and he spoke. "Go now, and rest, Elladan. You have been through much this day."

  
  


"No, Father." His eldest answered. "I would like to stay with Legolas. I'd like to be here when he awakens." An uneasiness passed through the elder twin as his mind added worriedly. 'If he awakens . . . '

  
  


Elrond hesitated, unsure if he should acquiesce to this request. His reluctance did not stem from any mistrust in his son, but from fatherly concern for his welfare. Noting the determination now present in Elladan's eyes, the elf lord finally assented to his wishes, though not without silently planning to have additional help available close by should circumstances warrant its need. Ultimately he concluded with. "I should go now and check on Estel. Though I believe Elrohir is with him, I would be more at ease, if I knew how your youngest brother was faring."

  
  


"Yes, Father." Elladan acknowledged before issuing his father a brief nod of farewell before returning to the chair he had previously occupied to resume his vigil beside his friend's bed.

  
  


Elrond departed the room as his mind went over all of the events of the last few days. So much had happened. So much grief and pain. His mind longed for the peace of quieter, happier times, wondering distractedly if they would ever return to them again. Entering into the chamber that contained his youngest, Elrond noted the comfort of Elrohir's presence in the chair beside his brother's bed. Though his eyes were open, the younger twin had succumbed to the lure of much needed rest and had fallen asleep. 

  
  


Drawing up beside the bed that contained his youngest son, Elrond settled his weight upon its cushions. His eyes searched the still pale countenance of the Man before him. He was pleased to note that his slumbering features appeared more relaxed and did not seem so pinched with pain. Reaching a hand forward, the elf lord reflexively brushed back the sweep of hair that fell across Aragorn's brow. He was surprised when his Human son responded to his touch by opening his sleepy, gray eyes. The Man's lips moved in speech as he quietly rasped. "Father. " Had Elrond not had the First Born's gift of keen hearing, it might have gone undetected. Aragorn said no more as his eyelids began to flutter and his eyes closed once again while his mind moved back toward the peace offered by sleep. The hint of a long missed smile curved upon his lips as he did. Tears filled Elrond's eyes as his hands moved down to cradle Aragorn's free one within his own. Bringing it up toward his face, he brushed his lips lightly against its warmth before turning his eyes upward and offering his thanks.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.

  
  


Author's Note: Thank you once again to all, who have taken time out to read and review my story! As always your words of encouragement are greatly appreciated! :) This current chapter proved very frustrating to write, though I had a general idea of where I wanted to go with it. I hope you enjoy what follows! :)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Relesen-Chapter17*

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The first light of the breaking dawn filtered in to slowly illuminate the darkened room about him, while the fragrance of familiar herbs used for healing steeped in a simmering pot upon a nearby table to perfume the surrounding air. But it was the pain that accompanied his initial meager attempt at movement that brought Aragorn back to complete awareness, and his sudden gasp in reaction to it that served to rouse the others in his attendance.

  
  


"Estel?" The familiar voice of his father called out in concern as both Elrond and Elrohir quickly rose from the chairs they had occupied to approach the cot that held the injured Human. 

  
  


Aragorn slowly reopened pain-filled eyes once more to stare up at the two anxious faces now hovering above him. "Father, Elrohir?" He rasped, his previous inactive voice offering up protest with his first renewed attempt at speech. 

  
  


Smiles replaced the former apprehension that marked both of the elves' countenances at Aragorn's acknowledgment only to be quickly followed once again by looks of worry as another flash of pain crossed the young man's pale features.

  
  


Settling down beside his son, Elrond reached forth a comforting hand, allowing his touch to linger upon Aragorn's still flushed cheek, while he asked. "Do you suffer much, my son?"

  
  


Permitting himself a moment to recover, Aragorn did his best to reply, though the strength of his voice was barely more than a whisper. "Only when I need to breathe, Father." He answered. His son's attempt at a wry grin to accompany his droll response failed to reach his lips, though the hint of a mischievous sparkle momentarily replaced the pain that clouded his still bright eyes.

  
  


Elrond's weak smile of acknowledgment to Aragorn's effort at frippery did not reach the serious gray eyes that stared back at the Man. His hand reluctantly moved away from his youngest son's face to now join his other, as they worked together to draw aside Aragorn's bandages in an effort to once again check upon his still healing wounds. Though heedful and precise with his actions, Elrond only further added to the discomfort his son now felt, and the Man alerted those present to this fact by his sharp intake of breath.

  
  


"I am sorry, Estel." His father responded contritely, while making some final adjustments to his son's bindings, his regret over causing his son any additional agony clearly evident upon his face.

  
  


The span of time that it took Aragorn to recover sufficiently enough to speak once more proved longer in length, as he waited for the acute pain that burned within his chest to subside. 'What had happened to cause him to end up in such a state?' The Man wondered behind eyes now closed in a self protective stance to ward off any further threat of pain, which might come about to burden him. His sluggish attempt to make sense of his present condition revealed to be as faulty as the mobility of his injury laden body, and it was not until his father spoke his name once more that he finally endeavored to open his eyes yet again. 

  
  


"Estel?" Elrond queried anxiously.

  
  


"I am fine, Father."

  
  


The resoluteness of Aragorn's words and the false bravado, which he tried to assume, did little to fool the elf lord, though they acted toward drawing the first genuine smile from the Eldar as he gazed back unconvincedly at his ailing son before replying. "That answer has never proven to be effective in the past, Estel, and I cannot help but wonder why you choose to persist to use it?" Elrond retorted dryly, before continuing on. "You are not fine, my son. The truth be told, you are far from it, though you have begun to make some initial steps upon the path toward recovery." The elf lord finished.

  
  


Weakly, Aragorn turned questioning eyes toward his father, and though the Man hesitated to speak, Elrond could not help but guess the troubled thoughts that played upon his youngest son's mind as he went on to explain. "You were seriously injured, Estel." Elrond stated, while motioning his hands toward his son's bandage-laden torso. He refrained from making any further contact with his son's body lest he should cause Aragorn additional discomfort, yielding instead to indicate in the air just above him the full extent of the wounds he had suffered. "You received a nasty gash here from an orc scimitar running the length from your breast bone down to your fourth rib. By the time you were returned to Rivendell, the laceration had become inflamed and the rampant infection from it brought about a dangerous fever, the lingering effects of which you are still suffering from." Elrond went on by moving his left hand to a location just above Aragorn's right shoulder. "And here, my son, you were struck down by an arrow." The elf lord hesitated involuntarily, as if to regain some composure before continuing on with his disclosure. "The damage to your body from it was extreme. The shaft proved to be deeply embedded within your flesh. In fact, the tip of the arrow made contact with bone, hindering any efforts in the field to remove it and thus causing the shaft to break while still within your body making your condition all the more perilous. Upon your return, I was forced to surgically remove its remaining length and repair the harm done to you. The added stress from undergoing such a procedure did little toward aiding your already compromised state, and as a result you fell into an unnatural sleep, the effects of which you have just recently awoken from."

  
  


Aragorn didn't need to question his father any further as to the grievous nature of his injuries, for the seriousness of any words of explanation the elf lord may have left out were clearly evident from the graveness that marked his father's features as he concluded his detailed account.

  
  


"Well I guess that begins to explain then my being a little under the weather." Aragorn murmured lightly, striving to maintain an air of levity, though it did not hinder his comprehension nor his appreciation over all that his father had just imparted.

  
  


"Aye." His father answered succinctly, while unsuccessfully trying to quell his recurring amusement at Aragorn's ongoing attempt toward flippancy.

  
  


"How do you feeling now, Estel?" Elrohir, who had yet to speak, anxiously interrupted.

  
  


"As if a two-ton oliphaunt just decided to find a resting place upon my chest, Elrohir." His brother joked spurring the younger elf toward laughter until Aragorn's accompanying mirth proved detrimental to his health, and his prior joviality suddenly turned into series of short gasps for breath as relentless pain set in once more. 

  
  


"Estel?" Elrohir interjected fearfully, while Elrond did not hesitate to provide succor to his ailing son. 

  
  


"Try to relax, Estel!" His father instructed as he drew comforting hands forward to soothe his son's drawn face and brow, smoothing back tangled damp hair in the process. "Yes, that's it, my son." Elrond continued. " Focus on my voice and relax, Estel, while taking deep, even breaths until the pain subsides once more."

  
  


"I am trying, Father!" Aragorn stammered between now clenched teeth, as he was unable to keep his apparent frustration over his weakened condition from his voice. His continuing efforts to slow his breathing and hence put a stop to his pain only served to increase the pallor of his already unnaturally pale complexion. Inevitably exhaustion, attributed by his heightened exertions, began to take its toll upon him, and Aragorn sank back into the cushioned softness of the bed below him, the only comfort he found himself immediately afforded, save for the soothing touch of his father's healing hands.

  
  


The drain of fatigue promptly claimed the recovering Man, and Aragorn found what little strength he still possessed was rapidly leaving him. Peering up beneath heavily lidded eyes, a burgeoning vortex acted toward separating him from his fellow occupants within the room, though he was still able to note the looks of apprehension that had returned to mark his father's and older brother's features. He tried his best to console them. "I am better, Father, Elrohir. Really! The pain is once again manageable." He concluded, though his answering voice was little more than a whimper. His eyelids finally began to falter, as they surrendered to their struggle with impending languor.

  
  


"That is good, my son." His father seemed to mouth, though his actual words were lost to the ever widening eddy now growing between them. Aragorn thought he felt Elrond's reassuring touch once more as his mind set adrift, and he let go of the pain surrounding him. His final thoughts in the moments before he submitted to the inviting claim that darkness now offered were centered upon if he had been alone in this pursuit that had caused him such ill, and if not, had others suffered as well?

  
  


While one mind succumbed to the comfort of sleep, another, a short distance away, was startled awake by an abrupt return to consciousness.

  
  


"Estel!" Legolas shrieked as his body bolted upright upon the bed beneath him. His heart hammered a heavy rhythm against the confines of his chest when he received no answer forthwith to his beckoning call. "Estel!" The Silvan elf exclaimed once more as fright began to take hold of him.

  
  


Faceless hands reached out to comfort him, gently guiding his shoulders back down toward the billowy softness of the cushions now below, as a voice quietly soothed. "He is better, nin mellon. He grows stronger and stronger with each passing minute."

  
  


"Then he is here with us ?" Legolas returned with mounting frustration.

  
  


"No, my friend. He is not. He has not yet the strength to leave his bed where he is currently resting." The voice answered.

  
  


"Resting?" Legolas questioned in disbelief before he asserted. "But, he saved me . . . He saved me from falling?"

  
  


"No, my hands stopped you from falling, Legolas." Elladan replied, while becoming increasingly alarmed by the growing turbulence that marked his friend's confused features.

  
  


"No!" Legolas shouted back in consternation. "It was Estel! He was there! It was he! I spoke with him! I saw him!"

  
  


"Nay, Legolas! It was not Estel, but myself, though you confused me for my brother." Elladan assured his fellow brethren.

  
  


Wearily the fair-haired elf shook his head to negate his companion's claim as he muttered distressfully. "It was he . . . It was Estel! He was there! I saw him, and I told him all that took place in the wilderness! I told him the truth!"

  
  


Lines of worry etched Elladan's usually smooth brow as he witnessed Legolas' torment once more, and he tried to offer further solace. "No, my friend. Estel is too weak to leave his bed. It was I. I know now the truth, Legolas. It was me that you confessed it to, and I am sorry! Sorry for all that I put you through. Sorry for my words said in anger! You must believe me, my friend. For it was I, who was there upon the terrace last night, Legolas! Me, Elladan!"

  
  


"No, no!" Legolas countered, while he continued to shake his head in response to raven-haired elf's words before repeating one closing coherent thought. "Resting?"

  
  


"Yes, Estel rests, nin mellon." Elladan answered, grateful that his explanation finally seemed to break through the emotional wall surrounding the now distraught elf. "And you must rest also." Elladan finished as he repositioned his restless friend once again upon the bed beneath him. "Rest, my friend." Elladan repeated quietly, as he watched Legolas' previous agitation begin to dissipate, hoping that his friend would ultimately let go and allow the replenishing peace of sleep to reclaim him. But though the Silvan elf lay motionless once more before him, countless thoughts continued to drift through his overtaxed mind.

  
  


*Edited 7/24/03

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	18. Chapter 18

Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.

  
  
  
  


Author's Note: Thank you all once again for your continued support! :) I must apologize for the roughness of last chapter. After rereading it the following day, I edited it again to make reading it a little more managable I hope. This current chapter is much longer than most, and I hope I caught most of the mistakes, but even with my efforts at editing, a few (or maybe many) still manage to squeek by uncaught. :) I'm beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel with this story. It *SHOULD* be wrapped up in the next few chapters. :) I hope you enjoy this latest one!

  
  
  
  


Relesen-Chapter 18 

  
  
  
  
  
  


Elrond paused to rub work weary eyes as he looked up from the parchment he had been studying upon his desk. Two new dawns had passed since Aragorn's return to consciousness, and though his son still suffered from the effects of his injuries, the Man's strides toward renewed health increased with each passing day. Adequately so, that the elf lord felt comfortable enough to allow some of his attentions to return to these mundane, but necessary tasks that were now spread before him. 'Besides', he mused, 'although Aragorn tried to keep up a confident front before all, who surrounded him, he could tell that such a conscientious effort was growing tedious for the young Human, and that he longed for the return of solitude that the buzz of constant companionship ill afforded to him.' To allow his son this comfort, Elrond had scaled back upon his time and that of others spent attending to Aragorn's sick room. 

  
  


Still a tremor of uneasiness coursed through the elf as he considered his youngest son. Perhaps this brooding tension was in latent response to how close they had come in losing Aragorn to his injuries, Elrond reasoned. He could not deny the toll that the accident had taken upon all of their lives. None had been left untouched by its tribulation, and though the members of his household seemed to be recovering from the physical aspects of it, emotionally speaking, the strain from this mishap still weighed heavily upon each of them in its own distinct way, Elrohir with his hovering overprotectiveness, Elladan with his overshadowing regret, and Legolas with his staggering remorse. But what perhaps proved most worrisome to the elf lord was Aragorn's continued if not forced quest toward levity. At first, the Man's unusual response acted toward humoring the elf lord, but now Elrond could not help but wonder if his son's persistent manner was just a guise he was using to protect himself from the adverse effects of his ordeal. Elrond was unsure how much of what had happened Aragorn now remembered, but every so often when his youngest believed he was alone to his thoughts, the elf lord would catch a glimpse of the brooding light that took hold of his dove gray eyes. Elrond had held off speaking to Aragorn about what had transpired, feeling it best to allow the knowledge of the events to come upon the Human gradually during this time of recovery. His son had asked relatively few questions concerning his injuries and had yet to inquire how others might have played a part in them. 

  
  


With this last thought, Elrond's mind could not help but turn toward the other convalescent within the walls of his realm. Legolas too seemed to be making increased strides toward recovery, but unlike his son, the elf, under the powers of his own strength, had been up and about again upon his feet, though he had yet to venture any further than his own bed chamber. Elrond's brow furrowed with deep worry as he thought about the Silvan elf. Even with his First Born tendency toward superior recovery, Legolas' sudden turnabout proved nothing short of miraculous. Still, the elf lord would not be fooled, for though the prince of Mirkwood's body healed at a much quicker rate than that of his son's, he perceived that heavy thoughts still plagued the immortal archer's mind, thoughts that the Silvan elf had since allowed none, save his own self be privy to. 

  
  


With these burdensome reflections still weighing upon him, Elrond stared back at the piles of correspondences still awaiting his attention, and moving his hands forward, he began to sift through them once more trying to decide which document called for his utmost notice. His attempt did little toward distracting his immediate thoughts, however, and he found his mind wandering back toward those, whose attendance, most recently filled it. Haphazardly he reached for the paper closest at hand and allowed his eyes to scan through its long, flowery address. Not until halfway through the second page did he care to acknowledge to himself that he had no clue as to what its text contained. To continue with this vain attempt at paperwork was fruitless, the elf lord conceded especially when his mind lay elsewhere, and though he promised himself that he would not allow his worry to take such a stronghold upon him, he felt compelled to make a brief sojourn away from this business and check upon those, whom he held dearest in his heart. 

Rising to his feet, Elrond tried to curb the rising flame of guilt now fanning within him for what he planned to do. Only hours earlier, he had reprimanded his two elder sons for crowding about their younger brother like mother hens. An uneasy smile played upon his lips as he realized he was about to do the same, but then again, Elrond reasoned, he was the man's father, and who else but himself should see to how Aragorn was getting along? Letting his eyes stray to the far most window of his study, he judged by the sun's position in the sky that the hour of the day was sufficient enough to justify another such visit, and without delay he headed off in the direction of his youngest's room.

  
  


Upon entering Aragorn's still temporary chamber, the elf lord's eyes were immediately drawn to the cot, which held his son. Hoping to find the Man resting, Elrond was distressed to note that he seemed to come upon Aragorn during a restless moment of sleep. Uncertain as to how he should proceed, Elrond acknowledged that he did not want to startle his son toward an abrupt awakening, lest such an unexpected action might bring about further pain for the Human. Instead, the elf lord chose to wait out the Man's disturbing dream, though he watched with anxious eyes the restless motions of his slumbering son hoping all the while that the man's own impulses might guide him back toward alertness. This was not to be, however, as Aragorn's head continued to pitch back and forth fitfully upon his pillow beneath it, while his left hand reached out reflexively to jerkily grab at the bedcovers below. His tense-filled movements incited an accompanying groan of anguish. The pain it held echoed about the room around them, and spurred Elrond toward immediate action. Hastily he drew to his son's side placing gentle hands upon his sleeping form to help still his motions, as he spoke out calmly breaking into the silence once more surrounding them. 

  
  


"Estel." Elrond began. "Estel. It is just a dream. You must calm yourself, my son, lest you pull loose some of your stitches and injure yourself again. Awake now, Estel, for what disturbs you is only an illusion."

  
  


The sleeping man before him took no notice of this message as his agitation grew all the more, prompting his father to shake him lightly in an attempt to rouse him from the effects of his alarming slumber. "Estel!"

  
  


The elf lord's consequent actions were sufficient enough to bring about his son's immediate awakening as stunned gray eyes shot open, and Aragorn cried out. "Legolas, no!" In the moments that followed, Aragorn's startled gaze moved about the chamber surrounding him in desperate search, while his accompanying breaths remained harsh and unsteady. Elrond's hands moved away from Aragorn's sides and up toward his face in an effort to comfort the obviously distraught Man, and he repeated his earlier words. "It was just a dream, Estel. You were dreaming, my son."

  
  


"Father?" Aragorn exclaimed as he turned anxious gray eyes towards the elf lord, while trying to make sense out of what was happening around him. His groggy mind tried to recollect what it was that had held him in such fear only moments earlier, but the vision was now but a blur to him. His brain milled over the minute fragments of the dream that still remained in the far reaches of his memory, but for the life of him he could not piece together anything of great significance. Nothing! Nothing, but the concluding image in the seconds before his father had drawn him out of his reverie. It had been of Legolas. 'Why would he dream of Legolas?' Aragorn wondered uneasily, while his heart continued to beat wildly within his chest in response to both the confusing image of his friend and his spontaneous awakening from it. 'Why?' Aragorn questioned again. 'But more importantly,' The Man reasoned. 'Why would the closing image of his Silvan friend be so unnerving to him?' He forced his weary mind to retrace his final moments of slumber until it reclaimed the alarming image once more, one in which Legolas had turned so dispassionately away from him. His throat began to choke with rising emotion as he recalled calling out to the elf to halt his progress, but Legolas did not falter and paying no heed to his needful words, he continued to walk on. 'Legolas?!' He had beseeched to the archer in overwhelming distress, but his exclamation had no effect on the elf. 'No, Legolas would never act with such regard!' Aragorn rationalized silently. ' Such a reaction was so contrary to the elf he knew, the one he now considered his dearest friend!'

  
  


His father's voice interrupted these thoughts. "Estel? Are you alright?" The elf lord's words drawing him back toward the present.

  
  


"Yes, Father." The Man acknowledged woodenly, as he pulled away from the elf's soothing touch, though he appeared still visibly shaken by the vision.

"Are you sure, my son?" His father responded gently, while moving now useless hands back toward his lap.

  
  


"Yes, Father." Aragorn replied again unsteadily, before concluding with . "Or at least, I will be..."

  
  


Elrond gazed back at the Man, noting his uncertainty, and it was easy for the elf lord to discern the unlikelihood of Aragorn's claim. "Perhaps if you told me the content of your dream, it might help to put your mind at rest?" He gently prompted.

  
  


Aragorn's gray eyes stared back at the immortal being, whom he considered his father, and he hesitated. So many ambiguous fragments had beset upon him these last few days, though few when added together made any real sense. His mind poured over them once more adding this latest vision to the growing list, while Elrond waited and looked on with interest. 

  
  


'His father had claimed he had been traveling when his injury had occurred. Why did thoughts of Minhiriath play so heavily upon his mind? He could not remember scouting that particular region of recent? And wolves? He remembered wolves, but though his body had sustained grave injuries, none had been wrought by the claws or fierce fangs of a wolf... But orcs!' Suddenly another snatch of remembrance flashed quickly before him, one of a fierce confrontation with these treacherous goblins. 'Yes, his father had mentioned his being slashed by an orc scimitar. But Legolas? How did he play into all of this?' Aragorn wondered as his mind searched for that still elusive clue that might aid him. He had not realized he had spoken his friend's name aloud until he heard his father's answering response.

  
  


"Yes,what about Legolas, Estel?" His father retorted evenly, though his eyes held a wary light that the Human had yet to ascertain. 

  
  


"Nothing..." The Man began, before asking. "Was he with me when I was injured, Father? I vaguely recollect traveling with him, but the two of us were suppose to part company...and I believe I was to go on alone scouting by myself. Had we parted company before all this happened?"

  
  


"No." Elrond admitted freely as he went on to explain. "Legolas was with you when your misfortune occurred, Estel It was he that brought you back to Rivendell."

  
  


"But I have yet to see him..." Aragorn began bewilderedly until sudden fear caught hold of him spurring him to halt such thoughts as he inquired roughly. "He is still here then, Father? Nothing has happened to him, has it? He was not injured too? Please, Father do not hold back such knowledge from me for fear of my health! I can assure you that my mind is strong enough to bear such tidings even if they be ill ones, though I can not profess the same for my heart! Please tell me, Father, he is well?"

  
  


"He is well enough." Elrond assured his son. "Though he received injury also as a result of your altercation with the orcs only to be further complicated by all he went through on his trek to get you home."

  
  


It wasn't Elrond's intention to trigger a finger of guilt within his son, but his father's comments acted toward doing so as Aragorn's mind reviewed his answering response. 'So Legolas had been hurt also? Perhaps that was the reason for his dream?' He pondered, 'But he could not reconcile this bit of information with Legolas' obvious rejection in his dream. His father had stated that Legolas had went through much to return him to Rivendell. His mind could not let go of another vestige that now drew to the forefront of his thoughts, that of a steadfast voice, one that would not relinquish its claim upon him even though the lure of peace without out pain had called temptingly out to him. The voice's eloquence, whether it had been in speech or song, had calmed and comforted him throughout the long agonizing and ambiguous journey they had set upon before the unnatural sleep his father had mentioned had reached out to claim him. Thinking back upon it now, he realized that he would have not held onto to this earthly life had it not been for that voice, Legolas' voice.'

  
  


Dubious gray eyes peered up toward his father's discerning gaze as Aragorn went on. "Then he recovers as well, Father, and you hold nothing back from me?"

  
  


"Yes, Estel. Legolas recovers also." Elrond began stiltedly. "His physical injuries were not as grievous as your own, though he did not return to us unscathed. He sustained many cuts and abrasions, a few more serious than others, but it was fatigue, both physical and emotional, which resulted that bore the greater consequence upon him."

  
  


"Thank Iluvatar!" His son responded with immediate relief as his mind interpreted all that his father had just imparted. For he had held visions of his self-sacrificing friend covering many leagues over difficult terrain, while his own body cried out for succor, and he was grateful, grateful for the fact that Legolas had not been critically injured by the orcs' scimitars like himself nor pierced by their arrows. It had been him alone, who had sustained such ill treatment at their hands, as vague remembrances now returned to him of their biting slash, which had temporary felled him and in seconds following as he had tried to regain his footing, of their agonizing pierce.....

  
  


"ARGH!" He gasped aloud in reaction to this memory, as the pain from his recovering wound cut through him with its resurgence. 

  
  


"Estel!" His father cried out in reaction to his obvious distress, while his skillful hands drew forth as he sought offer his son comfort by rendering immediate relief.

  
  


"I am fine...I am fine, Father." Aragorn choked through pain roughened breaths.

  
  


The elf lord appeared unconvinced by his response, while his expert eyes accompanied by his capable hands began to recheck the Man's various injuries. 

  
  


"Though perhaps I've pushed myself too hard, today." Aragorn conceded quickly, in an effort to appease the elf before him. The fact that his answer came so forthwith only served to increase Elrond's renewed misgivings.

  
  


Rearranging his son's bandages once more, Elrond gazed back at Aragorn with vigilance, while the Human seemed to try and draw away from his discerning stare.

  
  


"Perhaps I should rest?" Aragorn commented, as he looked away uneasily.

  
  


A wariness stirred within Elrond's breast over his son's sudden complacent transformation. He was unsure if he should let things rest as they were especially now when Aragorn had made such great strides toward remembering all that had transpired. The recollection, however, had proven costly to the Man's fragile health, and Elrond did not want to push his son any further than he was capable of handling at present. Still the nagging doubt over his son remembering the one, final detail of his misfortune while perhaps alone overshadowed him. How would Aragorn react to such knowledge if none were present to explain? So he pressed on with one final attempt. 

  
  


"I can find no just cause for your sudden heightened distress, Estel, save for the fact that the Human body still holds many mysteries even from myself. Perhaps some injured pathway that register's pain is still adversely effected by your wounds. It is safe enough now to administer a pain relieving draught, though its effects will make you sleepy once again."

  
  


"As if I needed anymore sleep..." The man retorted distractedly.

  
  


"Aye." His father answered dryly. "Though its restorative powers have proven most advantageous toward your continued recovery. Should I get you some before I leave? For I plan to visit with Legolas next, but not until I'm assured that you are resting once again comfortably." 

  
  


Aragorn glared back hesitantly at his father as if guessing his ploy or at least one of them. Elrond would not leave until he was certain that Aragorn was relatively comfortable and pain free. 'But how could he be pain free now?' He questioned sharply before replying hastily.

  
  


"I will take some if it pleases you, Father." 

  
  


Elrond almost reneged upon his offer with his son's immediate compliance. His attempt to spur his son toward further exchange had not boded well. He had been sure that his allusion to Legolas' name would coax Aragorn toward subsequent conversation and that the mention of a pain elixir would draw only complaint. But perhaps his usually astute intuition had been off, and that the Man indeed remembered no further, where as the pain he suffered from was forefront upon his mind? He could not withhold the means with which to offer his son present relief, so he moved away toward the far table that contained his healing herbs to ready a mixture.

  
  


Returning to his son's side, he placed a mug within Aragorn's waiting hand, while he watched the man begin to drink it, though somewhat reluctantly as his face crinkled with familiar distaste. 

  
  


Aragorn spoke out. "Well I see that the flavor hasn't improved any!"

  
  


Pleased when the contents had been drained completely, the elf lord reclaimed the cup, as he waited for the properties of the medicine to take their effect.

  
  


"Really Father," Aragorn began. "I don't need to be fretted over or watched like a hawk!"

  
  


" No, I suppose you do not..." Elrond answered reluctantly, before Aragorn cut in while trying to stifle a bogus yawn.

  
  


"I don't remember your tonics ever being so potent before......" He claimed as his voice trailed off, while his eyelids began to flutter before ultimately closing completely.

  
  


Elrond lingered as he watched his son in sleep once more, thankful that this time it was a peaceful slumber. Finally when he was well satisfied that the man would rest comfortably for some time, he departed the room, but not without hesitation as he glanced one final time toward his Human son. Aragorn was indeed remembering, and it was time for him to apprize Legolas of this fact. He turned to head off toward the Silvan elf's room.

  
  


The effects of the herbal remedy were subduing to the Man. The swish of his father's softly rustling robe signaled his exit from the room, though it was little more than a muted whisper to the now drugged Human. Aragorn opened heavy lidded eyes once more. Thoughts now swirled through his mind, but one struggled to remain in the forefront before all others that of Legolas. His body hitched again in reaction to it as the remembrance returned to him through the growing haze that now reached out to encompass him. An arrow had slammed into his body, its impact propelling him backwards, and his eyes quickly moved to scrutinize its origin, while pain assaulted his senses. "Dear Elbereth!" He gasped softly as his mind's eye reclaimed the past and his vision met with Legolas once more until finally sweet abandon took the advantage and reached out to claim him. 

  
  


Upon reaching Legolas' suite, Elrond knocked softly upon his door. Waiting patiently for a response, he received none. Not allowing this to deter him, he knocked more hardily a second time. Finally as long moments stretched forth, his patience wore thin, and he moved his hand toward the handle to allow himself access. 

  
  


"Legolas?" He called out in initial greeting as he crossed over the threshold and into the room.

  
  


His seeking eyes immediately made contact with the one he now searched for, as he found the fair-haired elf upon his feet beside a low chest of drawers. Sitting atop of the cupboard was an opened travel bundle. It looked as if the elf had been filling it. 

  
  


Initial confusion spilled across the Eldar's features as he immediately questioned. "Legolas what are you doing?" 

  
  


Elrond waited for a response from the one, who had turned toward him. None came forthwith, and so the elf lord pressed again, this time more compellingly. "I ask you, Legolas, what are you doing?"

  
  


Finally the Silvan elf retorted dutifully. "As it appears, my lord. I am making ready for my departure."

  
  


"You cannot leave, Legolas!" Elrond hastily responded unable to keep the growing edge of bewilderment from his voice at such a notion.

  
  


"Indeed, I am, and indeed I shall." Legolas answered almost matter of factly spurring Elrond's bewilderment to turn to sudden and unaccustomed outrage.

  
  


"I forbid it!" the elf lord countered forcefully

  
  


Legolas turned stunned eyes toward Elrond's and he replied willfully. " You cannot tell me what to do! What do I look like to you? A child?"

  
  


Attempting to regain control over his rising appall, Elrond stated sharply. "No, I am certainly aware that you are well past the age of juvenileness, though at times your actions draw cause for me to question such knowledge!" 

  
  


" But what is it that you hope to accomplish by this departure, Legolas?" Elrond continued warily. "You are yet fit to travel! If you were beset upon by either orcs or beasts, you'd stand little chance at defending yourself against them. Or is that what you hope to gain?" The elf lord inquired as his astute brow rose in acknowledgment. "To punish yourself for the crimes you believe committed against Estel?"

  
  


"Do not be foolish!" Legolas replied harshly.

  
  


"I don't believe the sentiment I proposed as foolish, for that is what you hope to achieve, is it not? By making yourself vulnerable, you seek to release yourself from the guilt that burdens you. Perhaps irreparably so. I cannot allow that to happen!" Elrond finished while noting the apparent fatalism that now marked Legolas' features, until the younger elf felt compelled to turn and look away.

  
  


"You cannot keep me here." Legolas bit out quietly

  
  


"I can and I will." Elrond countered gruffly. "Even if it means shackling you until that brain of yours returns to reason!"

  
  


The fair-haired elf did not respond to Elrond's unbridled threat spurring the elf lord to continue on. "Do you not wonder why I am here, Legolas? Pray tell, I cannot express my relief at happening upon you before such an ill-conceived plan was brought into action! I came here to relay to you the news that Estel is recovering and as his body recuperates, his memory returns as well. He is remembering, Legolas and soon all recollection will be retained by him. Now is the time for you to speak out about what happened in the wilderness! Do not hinder him from this, nor allow him to come upon such knowledge all by himself! He needs you there to explain it to him! He is generous in spirit, Legolas. Of this you can be sure! Do not abandon him in his time of need! You were there for him when his body cried out in pain. Can you not now do the same for him emotionally? For such an admission will not only serve to support him, but it will stem to emancipate you as well. Trust in him, Legolas, for he will not disappoint you!"

  
  


Tears streamed down the Silvan elf's face as he turned to meet with Elrond's countenance once more. "You don't understand, Lord Elrond." Legolas began tremulously "It is not my trust in Estel that wavers, but the trust I place in myself."

  
  
  
  
  
  


Author's note: The next chapter should pick up right where this chapter left off. I know Aragorn seems to be forever falling asleep. Lol! But in all actuality, (well at least in my mind) he is still physically far worse off than Legolas, and besides my plot needs him to remain that way for the time being, so I can reach the conclusion of this story, which btw has some parts already written. Until next time! Sue aka Quickbeam :)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	19. Chapter 19

Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.

  
  


Author's Note: A big thank you once again to all my readers and reviewers! It makes me happy to know that you have remained with my story! :) As with previous chapters single quotation marks designate a character's thoughts, whereas double quotation marks note their dialogue. I hope you enjoy this next chapter! :)

  
  


Relesen Chapter 19

  
  
  
  


// Tears streamed down the Silvan elf's face as he turned to meet with Elrond's countenance once more. "You don't understand, Lord Elrond." Legolas began tremulously "It is not my trust in Estel that wavers, but the trust I place in myself."//

  
  


Elrond's earlier anger was immediately deflated by Legolas' emotional statement, and he stared back wordlessly at the weeping elf, who had turned away from him once more in an effort to regain some composure. The immortal archer's fluid body seemed overshadowed with fatigue, his proud head now bowed in defeat and the elf lord could remain silent no longer. 

  
  


"Legolas, Elladan has informed me of what happened out in the woodland. You cannot hold yourself culpable for what transpired between Estel and yourself. A being, whether Elf or Human, does not hold total rein over what is to happen to them. Your goal was to protect Estel. From Elladan's account, you held no inclination that he was still capable of doing the same for himself. You could not have known that he would rise up into the oncoming path of your . . . "

  
  


"NO! NO!" The Silvan elf shouted, drawing forth his hands to cover the sides of his golden head in an attempt to silence the effect of the elf lord's words and the accompanying memory they served to bring about.

  
  


Elrond was not to be dissuaded and he vigorously continued. "It was an accident, Legolas! No one's fault! You are not to blame! No one is! You must realize this!"

  
  


Finding his vain attempt useless at blocking the surrounding sound from himself, Legolas shook his head in despair, as his hands relinquished their bid to quiet and instead allowed themselves to be plowed roughly through the adjacent fall of golden hair. Weariness marked the Silvan elf's features as his mind went over all that Elrond had just communicated. 'Elbereth! It had never been his intention to hurt his best friend. He knew that! He accepted that! He had gone over these same thoughts again and again in his mind until such a mantra had become all but rote to him, but the fact still remained that he had hurt him. Aragorn had almost died as a result of his actions and his mind could not let go of this. Regret ate at his soul especially when he allowed his mind's eye to return to that final moment . . . the moment when his arrow struck his friend . . . the moment when Estel's head jerked upward . . . his dazed eyes seeking the arrow's source . . . the brief flash of recognition that dawned upon his astonished features until his body's overwhelming distress reached out to rob him of his remaining cognizance and he fell. 'No!' Legolas' mind screamed out even now as it had done upon the field that day, while he watched his friend fall. "No . . . " he bit out softly now again as Elrond looked on.

  
  


"Legolas?" Elrond spoke out anxiously, while his hands reached forward to steady and comfort the shaken elf. For after his entreaty, the elf lord watched the play of emotions that crossed the fair-haired elf's features as tortured memories sought to return to him. Legolas did not shirk away from Elrond's hold, but still he remained aloof from the support it meant to relay. "Legolas, please!" the Eldar pleaded. "You must find the means to get past this! You cannot allow it to consume you so! I trust Estel will bear no ill will toward you when the facts are made known to him. You must stop beating yourself up over this! For doing so will bear no adjustment to the outcome of what has come to pass! Hurting yourself . . . "

  
  


"Hurting myself?" Legolas suddenly cut in.

  
  


Elrond hesitated briefly as his eyes studied the bewilderment, which now joined the other emotions that so clearly marked the face of the younger elf before him "The other night upon the terrace when Elladan found you up upon the parapet, he said it looked as if you were ready to . . . "

  
  


Once again the Silvan elf could not hold back. "Jump? Elladan thought that? ...." Legolas shuddered, and he could go on no further. 

  
  
  
  


'It was true that he loved Aragorn. He would do anything within his power to protect his friend, even if it should bring about his own demise, but to take his own life? That was ridiculous!' the elf's mind argued as these thoughts prevailed, and a grimness overtook the fair elf's features.' 

  
  


'But were such sentiments so far from the truth?' Legolas suddenly conceded. 'Surely he never meant to end his life the other night upon the terrace. It had never been his intent to jump. He had merely slipped due to the betraying weakness of his body.'

  
  


'But in all honesty, these questioning doubts that Elrond's words now dredged forth seem to delve straight toward the source of what had come to haunt him since the very moment his arrow struck his friend down and throughout their long journey homeward as he had struggled through the wilderness, while Aragorn languished before him, but most expressly when his worst fear had almost become realized not once, but twice! This was what he could not live with! This was what he feared he would not have the strength to endure! If Aragorn should have died? But it was not the 'ifs' he had come to so desperately realize in the days following their tragic account. He had fooled himself into believing in these 'ifs' . . . If he could just get Aragorn to Rivendell . . . if he could just get his friend to the practiced healing hands of his father . . . but no! No!'

  
  


'He had come to realize his mistake during those moments upon the terrace though his muddled brain refused take hold of its importance until he had awoken the following morn. Perhaps that was why he ended up upon the terrace? The location had marked a beginning for himself and Aragorn, though the seeds of their friendship had been planted long before that pivotal moment. Perhaps he had unconsciously sought out the comfort of what marked their beginning when the threat of an ending loomed so suddenly before him? For in those moments earlier, as he watched Aragorn's body seize upon the cot, he had finally come to realize what he had been denying all along. He had gotten Aragorn back to Rivendell. He had gotten his friend into the trusted hands of Lord Elrond, but still that had not been enough to save his friend. He had believed his death imminent at that moment when he had fled from his friend's chamber unable to endure the inevitable, unable to remain and bear final witness to what seemed to be approaching, and unable to offer any final comfort as death sought its claim upon Aragorn. He had realized in those closing moments that it had never been about 'ifs 'but all about 'when'. For one day death would ultimately come to the Human, and he could do nothing to prevent this inescapable truth from occurring. This is what he feared most! No matter by what means, his friend would one day be lost to him. The accident and the ordeal that had followed had only served to thrust this wretched knowledge to the forefront of his mind. Enduring through the possibility of this agony already not once, but twice, he was unsure if his heart would be capable of withstanding it when the inevitable eventually triumphed.' 

  
  


"I cannot bear to lose him . . . " His voice echoed wistfully throughout the chamber surrounding them. 

  
  


"You will not lose him, Legolas!" Elrond assured forthrightly, though somewhat puzzled by the words the Silvan elf chose to voice after breaking his prolonged silence. "Have you not heard my earlier words? Estel recovers. He grows stronger with each passing minute. Or do you fear that he will refuse to acquit you of what transpired? Surely, you must have faith in his benevolent nature, Legolas?"

  
  


"No! I cannot bear to lose him!" Legolas repeated again this time with more conviction. 

  
  


Elrond halted his attempt to provide answer, for he was unsure where the Silvan elf's thoughts now traveled and his eyes beckoned to Legolas to continue on.

  
  


"I cannot bear to lose Estel! Not once, but twice I've had to endure the fear and grief of believing him lost to me. As I stopped to offer him comfort in the wild, I was sure his spirit had fled some time during our passage. His body seemed lifeless . . . absent of breath . . . and then again in his room the other night, as his body convulsed. I could do nothing. It was as if my feet had taken root, while my heart was being ripped from my chest."

  
  


"I cannot explain what happened in the woodland, . . . " Elrond began speculatively. "but what you experienced the other night was Estel's emergence from the effects of his deep slumber. With his return to consciousness, his body had begun to react once more to the wounds he had sustained. Indeed it must have been frightening to witness especially when one does not understand its cause."

  
  


"So your words tell me now, but at that moment I believed Estel was dying! I had rationalized to myself throughout our long journey back to Rivendell that if I could just keep him alive that you would save his life and he would not die! It's what kept me going, even when my own body screamed out for comfort, but that night as I stood frozen with fear, I knew there was nothing I could do that would prevent him from dying."

  
  


"But he was not dying, Legolas." 

  
  


"Aye." The Silvan elf acknowledged grimly. "But he shall one day as all Men do . . . "

  
  


The emergence of understanding dawned within the elf lord. Not only did Legolas feel the guilt of his actions, but he was also tormented by the knowledge of Aragorn's mortality. "But that will be a long day in coming, Legolas. The blood of the Numenoreans flows within his veins and their life span is well beyond that of other Men." Elrond tried to reason, even as his own mind reluctantly admitted that he had no way of predicting with any accuracy when the Gift of Men would come to his foster son. 

  
  


"But it will come to him and perhaps sooner than we care to admit." Legolas retorted bitterly. "Illness . . . battle"

  
  


"True." Elrond answered. "But even our own brethren, Legolas, are susceptible to fatal wounds from combat."

  
  
  
  


"Yes, and their spirits depart to the Halls of Mandos with honor. All elves are aware of such a possible conclusion, but the souls of Humans depart in time no matter what the circumstances. This awareness was brought home to me as I watched Aragorn's suffering. " Legolas faltered for a moment as if to catch his breath, drawing one hand toward his breast as he continued emotionally. "To know that no matter what mine or your actions might be that he will one day succumb is too much for me to bear! His spirit will not dwell in the Halls of Mandos, and thus he will be lost to me irrecoverably! Do you not understand this or has such apprehension yet to come to you? I have experienced such grief twice within the last few days. Such coldness permeated my heart and soul at the thought of it. It was as if I did not want to go on. I cannot live this way!"

  
  


"The separation of death is no stranger to me, Legolas." Elrond admitted soberly. "And yes, I have experienced what you have called this coldness or what I would more accurately term a numbness more so than I care to admit, but the spirit within us is resilient and holds remarkable recuperative powers of which you have yet to experience."

  
  


"Experience?" Legolas scoffed. "How can one experience what you claim when one's grief is so overwhelming?" 

  
  


"By the love that lives on." Elrond stated. The power of love can be felt beyond the grave, beyond time. Its strength is ennobling. For love is stronger than death and with time it enables us to carry on. We will never forget those, who have departed from us. They are not truly lost to us, Legolas, for they remain here . . . " The elf lord paused to place his hand upon his heart. "and with us in the comfort of our memories of them."

  
  


Legolas stared back as if unconvinced before answering. "I never thought loving could ever be so hurtful."

  
  


Elrond's eyes narrowed as he paused to think over Legolas' words. "Unrequited love, perhaps, but the love you speak of is not of that kind. It has been freely given. It knows no boundaries. It is not the loving that is painful to us, Legolas, but the loss we might bear."

  
  


Legolas grew silent once more as his mind mulled over Elrond's words.' His friendship with Aragorn was unlike any other he had ever experienced. He had been reluctant to allow such a bond to grow between them never having felt regard toward any other member of the race of Men. Slowly his love for the Human had taken root. Perhaps it had been easier for Aragorn to feel such emotion, for he had felt affection toward Elves before. His friend had almost from his very beginnings resided within their company, but to himself such a complex relationship had been foreign. He had tried to resist it, only to find himself hopelessly drawn toward it through circumstance.' And he spoke out.

  
  


"It was never my intention to feel so strongly."

  
  


A troubled smile took hold of Elrond's features at Legolas' last words as he acknowledged his own role in actualizing what the Silvan elf now seemed to lament. Many years ago he had chosen to send the two out together on a scouting mission in the foothills surrounding Hithaeglir. It had never been his intent in doing so to strengthen any ties he judged between them. No, his design had been for another purpose entirely. He sought by pairing the two together to allow Estel the opportunity to obtain a prowess that by being constantly teamed with his two overprotective, but well meaning brothers might have chanced to elude him. Elrond had faith that by being aligned with Legolas that Estel would not be overshadowed by good intentions, but he'd also have the reassurance that if his son suddenly found himself in over his head that the archer would be there to back him up. Never had he dared to imagine the obstacles they would be forced to overcome and in the process of doing so how their lives would be forever linked. Upon their return from their excursion, the bond between the two only grew stronger, and what had started out as his attempt to endow his son had resulted in a binding friendship, one that seemed unbending up until now. 'Surely Legolas did not mean to . . . ' Elrond's thoughts hastily returned to present with a start as his eyes warily attempted to ascertain Legolas' intent before he spoke out. "But you do hold such strength of emotion toward him, Legolas. Nothing will change that! Neither for him nor for yourself!"

  
  


Aqueous blue eyes met with troubled gray ones before the Silvan elf stated regrettably. "The bond you speak of will always exist at least for me . Of this I am certain! What troubles me . . . " Legolas now faltered as the emotion he been trying so desperately to keep at bay cut into his voice. "What troubles me are my doubts toward my own capabilities. I know now that the power to truly protect him is out of my reach, and I am unsure if my heart can survive this knowledge. I fooled myself before by not allowing my mind to dwell upon this irrecoverable truth, but after what has happened, I can no longer do so! My heart will not bear such knowledge! I cannot continue on as I've done before!" 

  
  


"And so you plan to leave?" Elrond responded despondently, but the elf lord would not allow himself to be mired down in the woe now surrounding him and hastily he challenged. "Do you not intend to speak with him first, Legolas? Does he not deserve at least that one final consideration?"

  
  


Haunted azure eyes returned the elf lord's fixed stare, but the younger elf did not reply. 

  
  


"So it is distance that you seek then?" Elrond retorted unable to hold back upon his mounting frustration.

  
  


"For a time at least . . . " Legolas finally conceded. "...if you choose not to detain me. I do not seek to harm myself as you mentioned earlier, my lord. I just need time away to think. I cannot do so here. There are too many memories at work against me to allow my mind the peace it requires."

  
  


"Go then come morning, Legolas . . . " Elrond returned resignedly. "...but know this!" The elf lord finished more resolutely. "That what you intend to do will only accomplish sooner what your heart so thoroughly struggles to deny! For you propose to enforce an unnecessary separation from him, one I am sure you will come to regret! But go, Legolas! Go if you must, but make no mistake! Your actions will have no bearing toward halting what indeed will eventually come to pass whether you are with him or not!" With this said, the elf lord turned and left the room leaving Legolas to only his thoughts.

  
  


The elf remained fixed for many minutes upon the spot where Elrond had left him as his mind digested the Eldar's parting words before he turned and advanced toward his traveling pack, which lay upon the lower cupboard. Mechanically he resumed his efforts at packing as his eyes moved pensively about the room around him in search of anything that he might have left behind. His eyes hesitantly strayed to one far corner as his gaze settled upon one such object, but he made no move toward it in an attempt to reclaim it.

  
  


Traveling through the corridors of his realm, Elrond began to berate himself for allowing his emotions to take precedence over discretion in his parting words to Legolas. It was not his initial intent to rebuke the Silvan elf toward what he felt necessary, but unwarily he allowed his heart to rule the moment. For by carrying out such plans, Legolas would undoubtedly cause further pain to Aragorn, though the elf lord never believed this to be Silvan elf's intent. Still Legolas' actions would prove thus so, and Elrond felt compelled to draw near to his son once more in an effort to protect him from what was to come. He conceded that such thoughts were irrational, for he could not keep custody of this knowledge from the Man forever, nor protect him from its ramifications. The truth must be made known to Aragorn even if the burden should fall upon himself to do so. 

  
  


Approaching the chamber that held his son, Elrond hesitantly crossed over its threshold. As his eyes searched the darkened room, he was astonished to find the effects of the elixir he had provided his son with prior to leaving him had already begun to wear off as Aragorn lay waking propped up against a mound of pillows to help support his ailing body. The elf lord proceeded to become even more unsettled, however, when he was suddenly apprized to the fact that the knowledge that had been entrusted to him to impart was no longer necessary as Aragorn's hollow voice called out. " Why? Why has he not come, Father? Surely he must realize that I would never censure him for his actions? ..."

  
  


Drawing closer toward the cot, the heavy-hearted elf allowed himself to sink down upon its comfort as his hand drew forth to seek out his son's pale face. Allowing its warmth to linger upon his cheek, he could not dismiss the sadness that lay claim to his gray eyes. A similar despondency greeted his own as he acknowledged his son words. "A restlessness deeply plagues him, my son, one that he has yet been able to come to terms with."

  
  
  
  


Author's Note: I think *hope, pray* that there will be just one more chapter to go, but it will be a long one, and I might find it necessary to break it into two parts if it becomes too overwhelming to write. I find it much easier to edit the shorter chapters. The mind is not so weary by the end of them. It definitely takes two to three times longer for me edit than write one. 

  
  


White Wolf: Your review for chapter 18 gave me a chuckle. I'm not sure if that was your intention, but I was happy for the laugh! :) Yes, poor Elrond does seem to be doing a lot of traveling back and forth between Aragorn and Legolas almost as much as Aragorn has spent sleeping or unconscious in this story. There has not been a lot of action otherwise except for the first few chapters, though perhaps I can remedy that and inflict the poor elf lord with a severe case of shin splints before it is all done! :)

  
  


Thank you all once again for your kind and continued support! It means a lot to me just to know that you are reading my efforts. Until next time! Sue aka Quickbeam (1 now!) Lol! Us poor Ents- Is not enough that we have to suffer through Saruman's repeated raping and pillaging of our forests, but now they make us take numbers too? Geez! :)

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	20. Chapter 20 Part 1

Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.

  
  
  
  


Author's Note: I apologize for the delay in posting this current chapter. I also must apologize since it is not the final chapter as I hoped it would be. The month of August was a very busy one for me. I worked six day and sometimes seven day weeks. I did not find the time nor the energy to write more of my story with the time I did find available to me, and I kind of lost focus of it. I had written the second part of this chapter in early August, but I was displeased with its outcome even after many attempts at editing it. It just did not feel right to me, so I decided to shelve my efforts and give myself some distance away from the story. Unfortunately this time coincided with my increased work schedule. I was also in a quandary with how to handle a certain aspect of the final chapter when I do get a chance to write it. I tend to think about a chapter for some time before I write it down. I believe today I've come up with a suitable solution to my problem. I'm sorry this is not the conclusion to the story, which many of you hoped for. I will say in advance that it does not contain an Aragorn and Legolas' reunion. That is still yet to come. I was going to hold off posting this bit until I had it all finished, but that might be some time yet, and the chapter would have been very lengthy making it even rougher for me to edit. So, I felt Aragorn deserved a chapter of his own, since he has spent so much of this story either unconscious or sleeping. :)

  
  


Thank you all for your continued enthusiasm and support of my story!:) All of your gracious comments are greatly appreciated. I love hearing your thoughts, so please feel free to share them with me. It is amazing how some of our ideas are the so similar and how others differ. This story could have gone in so many different directions. To me this is the challenge, inspiration, and enjoyment of writing fan fiction especially the pass along variety that I am involved with on another site. It is always fun to imagine the many possible outcomes a story might take, and I have thought about each suggestion that has come my way regarding this story, though I have tended to stay true to my original vision. I'm sorry this chapter is so long in coming, but my work schedule has eased somewhat. Hopefully the next one, the final conclusion I hope, won't be so long of a wait. Thank you all, once again! :) Sue a.k.a. Quickbeam

  
  
  
  
  
  


Relesen Chapter 20- Part 1

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


Closing the door quietly behind him, Elrond made his way out into the now darkened corridor of his realm. The hour was late, just surpassing the harkening of a new day. With great reservation the elf lord was departing Aragorn's company. The preceding hours they had spent together had been marked with deep conversation, most of which had been carried out in the Eldar's own voice as he went about explaining to his son all that he knew about the tragic accident that had debilitated him, and the subsequent consequences it served to bring about. Aragorn had made little comment during this time spent together remaining reticent, and when the elf lord was at a loss for any further words with which to speak, his son seemed content to allow the long periods of silence that followed until Elrond's growing uneasiness propelled him toward initiating an attempt at conversation once again. For though the Man could be perceived as accepting all that Elrond had been communicating to him, his eyes could not adequately school the myriad of emotions that played out upon his soul. For how could Aragorn untroubledly reconcile with all that had taken place to both his body and spirit? It was because of this, his son's relative ease in acceptance and his following uncanny silence, that the elf lord chose to linger on further within his son's chamber long past the hour of comfortableness. 

He would have welcomed any type of reaction from Aragorn, anger, frustration, grief, disbelief, dismay, but the Man chose to offer up none of these feelings to him. Aragorn's lack of emotional response worried Elrond all the more. His sustained silence proved almost stifling. Surely his son must feel something, even if he chose not to share it? For how could one survive such trauma without any trace of emotional repercussion? With this hesitancy, the elf lord was loathe to leave his son's side should some delayed backlash surface and overwhelm him. If Aragorn, at present, had been physically stronger, then perhaps Elrond would have been less reluctant to part from his company, and allow the Man more distance with which to sort out his feelings, but recurring concern played heavily upon the elf lord and prompted him to remain.

  
  


It grieved Elrond as he did so that Aragorn was beyond the years in which he felt comfortable with unburdening his feelings to him. He was no longer the little boy, who would so readily seek out the solace of his enfolding arms and comfort of his spoken words. But to imagine that such grievous wounds, from which he now suffered from, could be so easily remedied was imprudent. To discover that it was not only by the hand of his closest friend that he had sustained such life threatening injury, but that Legolas also now chose to maintain a distance from him was insufferable. How could Aragorn capitulate to such a request without any statement of feeling? Surely his son could not keep up with this pretense? For though Elrond truly believed that Legolas did not deliberately plan to inflict any additional hurt upon his friend, the Silvan elf's actions would only further promote the ill that Aragorn now suffered with. 

  
  


He had tried to make Legolas see this earlier in his chamber, but perhaps his subsequent anger and frustration had hampered his efforts at trying relay this point to the younger elf. Dejectedly Elrond acknowledged he was limited in what he could achieve. He could not force what he desired for all to happen. He could only impart to them the wisdom of his experience and the value that he perceived, but ultimately the choice lay with those immediately involved, Legolas and now Aragorn. The decision was theirs alone to make, and he could only pray that the right course of action would come to them both. For now that determination seemed to solely rest with Legolas, and with the precarious state of the fair-haired archer's present emotions, he perceived little chance toward an outcome that would favor all those involved.

  
  


This is what had impelled him to remain in Aragorn's chamber long into the night. Elrond was consumed with the overwhelming desire to shelter his son from any further harm, whether it be physical or emotional in nature. It was only after many long hours spent in withdrawn silence, and Aragorn's subsequent agreement to take more of the pain relieving elixir that would assure him some rest this grievous night along his own mounting struggle against looming fatigue that Elrond finally agreed to quit his son's room. 

  
  


'But this was no firm solution.' The elf lord chided himself. 'For he could not go about delaying the hurt Aragorn would ultimately feel from Legolas' betrayal by drugging his son. No, his actions tonight, though well meaning, were only preemptive. His concern for his son's frail state had prompted him to behave as he did, but eventually Aragorn would have to come to terms with all that had happened to him, and he could only stand by while the Man did so and offer comfort and guidance if Aragorn should seek it from him. 

  
  
  
  


Drawing a hand upward toward the wooden frame of the door now shut beside him, the elf lord allowed his slender fingers to reluctantly trace the intricacies of its decor, while his mind played over his parting words to Aragorn. "Rest well, my son! For though all may seem bleak now when cloaked by the shadow of darkness, we must hope that the promise of a new dawn will shed light upon our troubles and help guide us toward finding the solutions we hope to obtain."

  
  


So inadequate his parting assurances now seemed, for his son had endured so much already. With a heavy heart, Elrond moved off toward his chamber, though any hope of finding some peaceful rest this night had been shattered. 

  
  


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A cloak of darkness suffused Aragorn's chamber. Only a subtle hint of light, cast off from the crescent moon out of doors, now filtered in through a gap in the draperies to prevent the room from being thrown into further shadow. The accompanying quiet of night filled the spaces surrounding him attempting to lull the Man toward much needed rest, but the Dunadan fought against the pull of its lure and the effects of the pain draught his father had administered to him before leaving. As testament to the urgent restlessness that had overtaken him, Aragorn's bedcovers now lay in a tangled heap about his feet. 

  
  


"Legolas, why?" Aragorn sighed aloud. Even with the news that Elrond had conveyed to him earlier, Aragorn felt cut to the quick by his friend's obvious attempt to dissociate himself from him. 'It makes no sense . . . ' The man mulled. 'His overwhelming desire for distance . . . ' "Legolas, you must know that I do not hold you in blame? ..." Aragorn spoke out roughly into the dismal quiet now surrounding him. "Why then my friend do you choose to continue shunning my presence?" 

  
  


The grim uneasiness that had taken hold of Aragorn would not abate, and it only grew stronger in its claim joining forces now with the Human's drugged senses. This building distraction gave rise to baseless doubts that only festered further as the Man's mind struggled with the haziness attempting to gain control over the corners of his mind, while he diligently tried to pour over the facts of both the past and the present. "This is not you, my friend. Surely, you must know this? Regardless of all that took place in the wilderness, you will always hold a place within my heart. How can you doubt this? I would have died had it not been for your life saving measures. It was your voice alone that held me to this life. Do you not realize this? Do not allow grief or despair to blind you to these facts and work to keep you from me, Legolas! If it be the burden of responsibility that holds you back still, then I should bear a share of its blame. I let myself become distracted. When the blow from the orc scimitar felled me, I allowed the accompanying pain to cloud my judgment. Knowing that I fought alongside another, I should have considered the consequences of my perilous actions before returning to the battle especially when numerous orcs were dropping about me." Aragorn concluded as the burden of his troublesome thoughts turned even further toward himself.

  
  


"Is it thus, which keeps you away, my friend? My vulnerabilities? For had you fought along side either Elladan or Elrohir or any other Elf, you would not have found yourself beset by these same set of troubles that were so grievously thrust upon you with my presence! You were slow to warm toward me from the very start, Legolas, because of our differences. Is it that, which now holds you back once again?" 

  
  


"But this is not you, Legolas . . ." Aragorn muttered roughly. " Or at least the friend I thought I had come to know!" 

  
  


Unable to remain quiescent any longer, Aragorn pushed his body forward, while he swung his legs toward the side of the cot, wincing at the accompanying pain his actions brought about. "I cannot sit idly by, . . . " The Man gritted. "Not while you so lightly toss our friendship aside. It is dear to me, even if it has not proven to be thus for you! No, elf! Before this night is out, you will have to face me and speak the truths you have chosen to keep concealed!" 

  
  


Resting his palms against the soft tick beneath him, Aragorn attempted to rise up from the narrow bed he rested upon. He found his legs beneath him as wobbly as those of a newborn foal's, compelling him to reach forward toward a nearby table to gain stability. The weakness from his prolonged infirmity and the effects of the pain tonic he had taken minutes prior now worked towards encumbering him. He waited for his head to clear before he tentatively set about placing a foot forward as if to test the waters before venturing any further from the surety that the cot and table now provided him. This slight action proved grievous to him as he felt the protesting pull of his recovering wounds. Drawing an arm around his middle to cushion against the additional threat of pain, he left his other free to steady himself further should the event prove necessary. Undertaking yet another small step, he raised wary, gray eyes to consider the distance still left to him and gritting his teeth once again, he pressed onward.

  
  


It was long minutes later before he reached Legolas' far suite. His body quaked with both pain and exhaustion from his risky endeavor. It was by the sheer strength of his will alone that he still remained upright upon his feet. Raising a shaky hand forward, he brushed aside sweat dampened hair that now clung to his face as he tried to slow his ragged breathing. After regaining some semblance of composure, he moved forward to rap lightly against the door before him. Not wanting to alert the remaining household to his covert actions, he did not wait for the Silvan elf to answer, but proceeded hastily forward using what diminishing strength he had left to push open this one final barrier that remained in his pathway. 

  
  


Entering the darkened chamber, he allowed his eyes time to adjust to its dimness before his gaze swept through the area now surrounding him. His search came up empty. The room was vacant save for the furniture about him. It bore no evidence that any still laid claim to its amenities.

  
  


" No! This cannot be!" Aragorn stammered, as he looked on in shocked disbelief, while mounting frustration grew upon his haggard features. "Father said you would not leave before the morn! Where are you then, Legolas? " He exclaimed, while staggering forward toward a low laying cabinet suddenly coveting its stability as his recovering strength finally began to give way. Reaching his goal, he once again tried to steady the uneven breaths his strenuous actions had wrought upon his weakened flesh, while his heart raced rapidly beneath his battered rib cage in protest to his body's opposition against the drugs that sought to subdue him. Sweat now beaded upon his forehead and beneath the weight of his long hair laying upon the back of his neck, trickling down in rivulets to dampen the tunic beneath it causing Aragorn to shiver in reaction. Pain and frustration clouded his gray eyes as his gaze once more swept through his friend's suite, while he continued to cling to the cabinet beside him for support.

  
  


'Had Legolas departed from Rivendell already? How could the elf have left so willingly? Was the distance Legolas craved so crucial that he could not even wait till morning to take his leave from him?' Aragorn's head dropped forward to join his now bowed shoulders, while his hard fought for resolve began to dissipate. He desperately sought to maintain some thread of control over his precarious emotions, though he felt the sharp sting of tears threatening to betray him, and he raised a hand upward to halt their progression as he concluded resignedly that his efforts to confront the elf had been in vain. Legolas was no longer here! He had failed to put a stop to his intentions! 

  
  


Sorely acknowledging this sorry fact, Aragorn shakily made to quit the room surrounding him. He slid his hand along the polished surface now beneath it, using its solidness to aid his now failing strength. He could not remain in Legolas' chamber any further. The starkness of its interior seemed to call out and mock him, but as his knuckles whitened from their exertion to help propel his faltering gait forward toward the doorway, his eyes were drawn like a magnet toward the far corner of the chamber. The flame of hope he thought extinguished only moments earlier was reignited within him again. Swallowing back both pain and exhaustion, he slowly moved forward in claim of this new found chance at promise.

  
  



	21. Chapter 20 Part 2

Disclaimer: This story was written for enjoyment only. I do not own any of Tolkien's characters.

Author's Note: Wow! It's finally here! I'd like to thank all of you, who have taken the time to read my story and especially to those of you, who have responded back to me with your kind words. Here it is! The final chapter including a flashback (one of the author's favorite devices!) I hope you enjoy what follows!

Relesen-Chapter 20 -part two

Legolas had covered much ground this night before reaching his final destination Traversing across many pathways under the covert shadows of nighttime, he somehow strangely did not feel alone for his mind was occupied by a swirling tide of thoughts. Now coming to a final halt, his eyes looked outward, and he found himself just outside the stables at Rivendell. In the back of his mind, he had held onto the idea of asking Lord Elrond for use of one of his mounts, but he had not found the opportunity to express this request to the elf lord, who had come upon him so suddenly hours earlier while he was packing. The conversation that ensued between them following Legolas' untimely disclosure had been anything but cordial, and his petition no longer seemed pertinent in its wake. The elf conceded that the trip, he was about to embark on, would be made much easier upon horseback especially now when he traveled so lightly, but he no longer felt inclined to infringe upon his host's graciousness any further. As his gaze moved further outward to take in the expanse of Elrond's realm that laid within his periphery, he was sad to acknowledge that this in fact might mark the last time that he would do so. He was unsure if he would ever set foot upon its grounds again, and the thought only added to the growing ache that filled his soul.

Trying to push such heavy thoughts aside, he turned and moved forward toward the doorway now in front of him. Pushing it open, he entered into its darkened interior. The structure was not unfamiliar to him, having been within its walls countless times before with Elladan and Elrohir as they readied their horses for the many jaunts they had taken together out into the woodlands surrounding Imaldris, but his mind was now engaged with a time much later on in his acquaintance with the elven realm. As his gaze shifted to take in the shadowy forms of the many horses now presently at rest beside him, he suddenly started as he perceived what he believed to be the presence of another. He chided himself when he quickly realized he had given life to an inanimate stack of feed sacks along the far wall. The absurdity of this revelation was not lost upon the elf, and he wondered if perhaps Lord Elrond had been right in his earlier estimation that he was yet fit to travel. Legolas' brow furrowed further with concern as he continued to acknowledge this point, but alas he could not turn back from his decision now. He would leave from Rivendell come morning. He would not refrain from this course, and he prayed that in time with his departure, he would at last discover some much sought after peace.

'But what of Aragorn?' His troubled thoughts betrayed him.

His throat drew suddenly taut with this admission. He had fought hard against the thoughts of his friend entering upon his mind, had struggled against letting them gain access. But now with his imminent departure from Rivendell within sight, he found his defenses crumbling rapidly before him.

"No, I will not allow myself!" He muttered tightly. "I shall find peace!"

But peace was not for the asking, as Legolas' gaze strayed back again toward the free standing sacks before him. Inanimate objects no longer stood there, but seemed suddenly replaced by the vision of the one from whom he now sought to escape. For there now before him stood Aragorn, no longer injured and so close to death, but in the likeness of the youth, who had met up with him so many years prior in these very stables as the two readied to start out upon their journey into the foothills of the Misty Mountains.

"Do I go mad?" The Silvan elf uttered shakily as he drew forth his hand to rub his weary eyes and wipe away the disturbing dream. As he raised his head again, he was distressed to find his efforts to blot away the image had been useless, for there before him remained the boy, intently gazing back at him, while his initial words of greeting echoed within Legolas' head. "I'm here."

"This is not possible! I do go mad!" Legolas exclaimed as he thought back to another such vision he had experienced only days prior upon the terrace, while he hurriedly brought his other hand upward to join the first in an effort to clear away this apparition once more. He had justified the earlier account to his weakened condition and his blood loss at the time, but now he was not so sure that it should have been so readily explained away. Hazarding yet another glance, he was relieved this time to find that only sacks of grain now stood before him once again, but this consolation proved fleeting. For though the haunting vision had dissipated, the memories it served to bring about began to act upon the distraught elf.

"I'm here." Had been Aragorn's gruff words of greeting as he had entered into the stable that early morn to join the elf. Having now just learned the true identity of the one Elrond had chosen to accompany him on this mission, Legolas was uncertain if he possessed the mastery to sufficiently school the deep misgivings that stirred within him upon this discovery. Turning to acknowledge Lord Elrond's youngest son, the Silvan elf was caught even more off guard, for there now before him stood a lanky figure resembling an adult Man in both height and stature. Though these most obvious physical changes had initially startled the elf, what had proven even more disconcerting was the intensity within the stare of the gray eyes that looked back toward him. They no longer held the youthful exuberance he so remembered from the boy's earlier childhood, but were now imbued with an astuteness well beyond the years possible of the one who bore them. Not only that, but they were possessed by a hint of grimness as well. Legolas had been hesitant to reconfirm this latter estimation as the void of silence that now stretched between them grew ever wider. The elf felt compelled to break his gaze first from the young man's as his line of vision dropped slightly lower to come in contact now with the remnants of a thin, but well healed scar just above the Human's upper lip marring a once smooth complexion. As if noting where the direction of the elf's thoughts now traveled, Aragorn unconsciously raised his hand toward his face as if to conceal the blemish, his curved index finger brushing lightly against its length. Though Legolas blue eyes raised to meet with Aragorn's gray yet again, the Human did not feel inclined to speak either words of confirmation or explanation as to its origin. Feeling even greater unease, Legolas dropped his gaze toward the dirt floor of the stable. Though he found his traveling companion more than adequately fitting the description of adult than child, his reservations at embarking upon this journey with one, whom he deemed as inexperienced, burned fervently within his breast.

"I'm here!"

The words echoed once again within present day archer's head as he remained transfixed, staring out into the nothingness now in front of him, but the elf remained oblivious to its effects as his mind traveled onto the next time he had heard Aragorn utter this very phrase . For it had proven even more crucial to the elf days later as he and Aragorn fled from the orcs, who had captured them. Both suffered ill treatment at the merciless goblin's hands, but they had singled out Legolas especially and treated the elf reprehensibly. During the days that followed their escape, he had struggled to keep up with Aragorn's covert maneuvers throughout the surrounding hinterland, but finally the injuries he had sustained had proven too much for the elf, overpowering him until at last he could go on no further. His body had been plagued by high fever brought on by the foul poisons the orcs had coated their instruments of punishment with. As he collapsed to the hard earth beneath him, his last waking memory was of Aragorn leaning over him trying to encourage him to get back up upon his feet and move onward, but Legolas could not. His body was failing him, and the passing of the next few days were all but a blur to the elf as his lingered between life and death. He could not account for in the days following how he had clung to the world of the living especially as the troubled dreamworld he had sunk ever deeper into grew darker and darker, or why he had even striven to until a voice broke through the turbulence surrounding him and beckoned to draw him back toward it.

"I'm here!" A voice called out to him again, though he struggled against its hold adding it to the many demons that plagued both his body and spirit. The speaker, however, would not relinquish his claim upon him. "I'm here, Legolas." The voice called out to him once more, bidding to him to follow its path, though he knew his battered and weakened body could not find the strength needed to comply with such a request. For days now his body had suffered from the many ill effects of the orcs' cruel punishment upon him until he was wracked by fevered delusions.

"No!" Legolas gasped in reaction. "Iluvatar, let me find peace!" The elf bit out, praying for an end to his anguish to come soon.

"I'm here, with you, beside you, my friend." The voice repeated more fervently now as he felt the warming touch of hands upon his now chilled flesh. The timber of the voice grew only stronger as he now felt the same healing touch move forward toward his brow, smoothing back sweat dampened hair, and driving back the demons, which sought to destroy him. Legolas let out an agonizing cry in response to the pain still enveloping him, but the voice would not abate, nor abandon its claim as he heard it call his name again and again. Its force fought back the shadow that haunted him, while its persuasiveness sought to draw him back toward the light of the living until finally the despair, he had been mired down in, suddenly lifted and his dazed blue eyes were able to flutter open once more.

If he had been stronger at this time, he might have more readily recognized that it had been Aragorn kneeling above him, and that the Man's youthful face was now gray with weariness, while his eyes were clouded with both fear and uncertainty. The comfort of long sought after peace, however, suffused the elf's soul as he looked up into the Man's face blinding him to these facts, and for long moments he was unsure as to whom or what he owed this gift. As Legolas' stunned expression remained upon Aragorn, the Man felt compelled to draw away, rising as if to gather some supply.

"What has happened?" Legolas gasped only to be stunned by the weakness, which his own voice betrayed.

Astonished, Aragorn turned back toward him, his previously pale complexion now sufficiently more recovered. "Have you no memory?" He asked warily.

"No, only that there was a struggle, but with whom and when . . . that is all still a blur to me . . . "

"It has been many days now since we escaped from the orc encampment, Legolas. You were grievously injured by their foul treatment. For a time I feared . . . " Aragorn broke off, not allowing himself to continue any further.

"But I am recovered . . . " The elf began more heartily as he drew himself upward upon his elbows, though his returning strength failed him, and he almost pitched sideways.

Aragorn was immediately beside him again to stop his fall as he eased Legolas back toward the ground before he commented. "You have just begun to recover, Legolas, and the remainder of this journey might prove to be a lengthy one for you."

"Perhaps," The elf acknowledged before he continued on. "It is strange. I remember being in great pain and then I heard a voice. It called out to me. It would not let go, but summoned me toward it, compelled me to follow its lead, and by doing so, I left the pain behind, until it was no more . . . well most of it." The elf conceded toward his still weakened flesh. Raising questioning blue eyes toward the Man beside him, Legolas was about to ask Aragorn if there had been another with them, perhaps a healer had been found, whose efforts had exacted this result, but as his gaze took in the depths of Aragorn's hesitant own, he knew his answer before ever posing the question. All that had come to pass immediately came rushing back to him now, and the elf suddenly felt the necessity to look away. He had come to admire the Human's courage, strength, and adeptness in the weeks preceding, but suddenly he felt shame in the knowledge that Aragorn had been so acutely aware of the very depths of anguish that had plagued his soul, anguish that had proven so heavy to Legolas that he had almost given himself up to it. As if sensing his unease, the Man backed away once more to give the elf distance and busied himself with other matters.

It had taken weeks, not until his recovery at Rivendell, before Legolas was able to come to terms with all that Aragorn had done for him out in the wild following their flight from the orcs. Still when he had, he did not feel the ease to approach the Man with this knowledge, instead drawing further into himself, until their eventual meeting upon the terrace.

"I am here!" Aragorn's voice rang out once again within Legolas' head as this remembrance drew to a close as well. "I am here!"

Shaken beyond relief, Legolas drew flattened hands toward the sides of his head, but the voice would not abate. "I am here, Legolas!"

A sob tore from Legolas' throat as he collapsed against the wall beside him moving his trembling hands to cover his tearing eyes. "Do you think that I do not know this, Estel? Each path that I've walked this night, it was as if you were there beside me . . . Each corner I turned, my heart held out hope that somehow you'd be there to greet me . . . You returned my hope to me all those years before . . . drove back the demons that haunted my soul . . . if only you could do the same for me now. But it is by my own hand this time that the shadows now consume me. The fault is mine alone. You do not know how many times this night I've had to check my footsteps from drawing me toward your chamber. All I want is peace! Freedom from the nightmares that torment me, but alas my friend, this time such a gift is not yours to give! How could it be? After what my actions have caused you? A darkness has settled once again over my soul . . . one I fear, which will be too exacting to find relief from! But forgive me, Estel! Forgive me for the pain that I've caused to you! It was never my intent! I pray that you will once again find wholeness! Do not think harshly of me, my friend, but find it within your heart to forgive. You cannot know how my heart despairs for what I must do!"

With this final plea, Legolas pushed himself forward. Tears now rolled unheeded down his face and the elf made no attempt to halt them, as he turned to move back through the door he had entered earlier. He had not noted the hint of light that now shined through gaps within the timbers of the out building, but as he turned toward the doorway, he discovered that it now lay bare, and the rising sun's rays spilled suddenly inward to momentarily blind him. Raising his hands to shield his eyes from its waking brilliance, his heart caught in his throat as his vision finally cleared and a figure broke through the glowing resplendence to move toward him.

Aragorn had almost given up hope. For nearly an hour now he had been in search of Legolas, pushing back both his doubt and despair that the elf had already left his father's realm. With his strength dangerously ebbing, he made one final attempt as he moved to out of doors hoping to find his friend still upon the grounds of Rivendell. He knew not what had driven him toward checking the stables first, but he was thankful that he did, for there before him now stood the elf. He had reached up to him only seconds prior, but the time had been sufficient enough for Aragorn to hear his friend's heart felt pleas. His father had been right. Legolas indeed suffered from a deep restlessness of spirit. It had frightened the Man as the sun's light moved in to illuminate the elf's stark features, the nakedness of grief that seemed to suffuse the elf's soul. Aragorn felt the necessity to check himself from rushing forward to reclaim his friend, for he was uncertain as to how the elf would react. He could not cause his friend any further pain, but he could also not leave his presence now without making statement.

Suddenly as if remembering what he held within his hand, Aragorn's eyes drew toward the weighted object recollecting its significance during an earlier time. He had not realized its importance when he had claimed it earlier within the elf's chamber, but had only seen it as a means with which to spur on his own resolve toward finding some completion. Now as his shaking hand gripped its base more tightly, he saw within it a means perhaps toward attaining some resolution for them both. Moving forward toward the still startled elf, Aragorn drew forth what he now held within his grasp and quietly transferred it into the awaiting hands of his friend. Legolas stood silent in shocked disbelief as his eyes widened with emotion to take in what it was that the Man now handed to him. For not until he felt its weight transferred did he believe that the one, who now stood before him, was anything more than another dreamt up illusion. "Estel?" He gasped aloud before incredulously staring down once more at the bow he had left behind in his room. As his grief-stricken eyes raised to meet with his friend's again, he was at last granted the peace of hearing his voice.

"Legolas." Aragorn greeted in heart felt acknowledgment. " I did not realize the torment that plagued you. I hold no claim upon you. Do what you must, my friend, but know this," The man continued in choked response. "I will hold you in my heart until time seems fit to reunite us again. Go in peace, mellon-nin! May the Valar watch over and protect you on your journeys!" As Aragorn finished, his hand came to rest over Legolas' own upon the bow. Aragorn allowed it to linger there only momentarily before he turned to go. He could not force his presence upon his friend, not now while the elf was still so vulnerable, but he could at least let the elf know before he left him that he held no blame toward him.

This, he hoped accomplished, and Aragorn turned to leave. Taking but a few steps, he was alarmed to note once again his faltering gait. He had pushed his still recovering strength beyond its endurance this day, and he was about to pay the price for it. While he was in search of Legolas and in possession of the bow, he had drawn some unseen resilience from its presence that had spurred him onward, long past his body's ability to do so, but now he was suffering the ill effects of his actions in its wake as he felt his unsteady legs begin to stumble beneath him. Drawing upon what little fortitude he had left in his possession, Aragorn fought hard to continue walking onward without failing. He could not allow Legolas to bear witness to any continued weakness on his part, not after he had given the elf his support and blessing toward moving on and finding the peace he now sought. To collapse now while still within the elf's line of vision, would only erase all that his words and actions had sought to infuse within the elf. 'No!' He would not allow any weakness on his part to negate the good he felt he might have done this day, and so Aragorn struggled forward even as the buzzing within his head grew louder, and an all consuming weariness took hold of his limbs.

"Just a few more steps!" Aragorn bit out quietly to encourage himself onward. "Just a few more steps, and I shall round the corner and be able to seek out the purchase of a stone ledge to keep myself afoot!" But as the Man turned the corner, he knew that the stability of the foundation he sought was outside of his reach as he felt his trembling limbs finally give way beneath him. His final thought was one of satisfaction that before consciousness left him, he had managed to remove himself from Legolas' line of vision. His one last hope before he collapsed toward the ground beneath him was that its contact would prove forgiving to his already injured torso. But its proximity was not to be realized as an arm drew suddenly around him to save him from his fall. He had not the strength to lift his head, nor the presence of mind to identify his rescuer as he felt the assuredness of their claim draw more firmly about him. His mind was now a whirl while his heart beat too rapidly within his breast, and his lungs reacted in kind as they gasped to take in more breath. His body shuddered with its betrayal, but the trembling subsided as a voice sounded within his ear.

"I am here, Estel, with you, beside you. You can let go now, my friend, for I will not let you fall . . . Breathe easy, Estel, relax . . . " Legolas continued to encourage until the shivering that had plagued the Human began to give way. The elf was alarmed to note that his friend's coloring was still quite pale, and that the heart that beat beneath his hand coursed much too rapidly spurring the elf to draw the Human even closer toward him as he brought him to rest within his arms upon the ground beneath them. With worried eyes, he watched as his friend attempted to recover. "Relax against me, Estel. Do not fight me . . . " Legolas whispered reassuringly. "For I have no plans to leave you . . . " He soothed as his friend began to quiet beneath his touch, and his own thoughts were able to return once again to what he had been struggling with only moments prior as he set off after Aragorn.

He could not willingly part from his friend, no matter what path the Dunadan's life was destined to take. Though he might always lie in wait of what the future might possibly hold in store for them, he could not cut himself off from the one, who had restored hope to him once again. This time, Aragorn had achieved this gift not only through the strength of his words and actions, but imperceptibly and indelibly throughout the past few weeks through the comfort of memories that had returned to Legolas to remind him of the unbreakable bond that lay between them.

As he stroked his friend's back, thankful at last that Aragorn's breathing seemed to be returning to normal, he acknowledged with deep regret that one day his friend would indeed be lost to him, but only physically. For no power, no matter however evil or dark it might prove to be, could ever destroy what the two shared. He was humbled now as he thought back to Elrond's earlier words. At the time when the elf lord had issued them, he had dismissed their importance, but now as his friend lay resting within his arms, he acknowledged their truths. His love for Aragorn would live on long past the grave. He would carry it with him always. Tears brightened his deep blue eyes at this acceptance.

As he continued to hold Aragorn to him, he felt the Human relax even further. Legolas acknowledged that he would not leave Rivendell this day, for he knew in his heart that he was destined to travel alongside Aragorn during his lifetime on Middle Earth. Undoubtedly at times the two would be parted from each other's company as separate paths called out to them, but Legolas was reassured now that nothing could ever really come between the friends. With this admission a weight had been lifted from his soul. Looking back toward Aragorn, he was relieved to find the Man's strength was once again returning to him.

"Legolas?" Aragorn beckoned to him through his confusion.

"We must get you inside . . . " Legolas returned in explanation.

"I can manage myself . . . " Aragorn began to respond argumentatively until his eyes refocused and he noted the drastic change that had taken place upon his friend's familiar features. No longer did the elf beside him appear lost, but that the peace he had striven long

toward attaining had finally come to him at last.

"The path before you is a little rocky, my friend." The elf reasoned.

Drawing his hand forth, to clasp one of Legolas' own, Aragorn retorted in both contentment and relief. "But it will prove to be nothing for the two of us, my friend, if we put our minds to it!"

"Let us go then." Legolas affirmed finally, while smiling hesitantly back toward the Human beside him before replying further. "For I am sure your father and your brothers will be out of their minds with worry if they were to discover you gone from your room."

"They need never to be made aware of such knowledge . . . " Aragorn began sheepishly, hoping for Legolas' agreed cooperation in the matter.

"No," The elf acknowledged lightly, while helping Aragorn back up onto his feet, though he continued to keep his arm drawn about his waist for support as the two headed off. "Not unless you've caused additional harm to yourself through your foolish actions." The elf retorted in mock sternness.

"Must you always find fault in me?" The Man countered in jest, but as the elf turned now serious blue eyes upon him once again, Aragorn knew this had never been the case as a smile drew upon his face.

As the two walked onward toward the Man's home, they were unaware that another set of eyes was upon them staring down into the courtyard. With unspeakable satisfaction the insightful gray eyes drew away from the scene now unfolding in front of him. The two had finally come together, he acknowledged. Release had at long last come to the fair-haired archer and with it the promise of peace for all involved. A smile brightened Elrond's poised features as he headed out of his study to prepare for his son's and Legolas' return, for indeed this new day now dawning before them offered the promise of renewed hope.

The End.

_**Just a few other notes:**_

_**I envisioned Aragorn's attempt to heal Legolas in the flashback as his first attempt at healing, hence the fear and uncertainty that marked his eyes as he drew the elf back toward the living.**_

_**The issue I had the most trouble with, when writing this chapter was Legolas' final acceptance of Aragorn's eventual death. I did not know how I could explain the sudden change in the elf's fears and then eventually decided that I need not try. That even though the elf might still be bothered by the idea of Aragorn's mortality, his need to be with the Human would overrule this fear within him.**_

_**Finally, I included a brief mention during the first part of my flashback that may have something to do with a future story I might someday write. I hope my use of it in this story did not prove too confusing.**_

_**Once again, thank you! You have made this story so enjoyable to write with your continued kind words! They have been greatly appreciated:) Sue a.k.a. Quickbeam**_


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